


Delightful Blackmail

by Duco_Lacuna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Blackmail, Deception, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Family Drama, Lemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 49,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duco_Lacuna/pseuds/Duco_Lacuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a certain Malfoy blackmails Hermione, she is determined to get her own back with a little blackmailing of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as part of the Lucius Big Bang 2012 over at Livejournal.

Hermione crushed the letter as her hand clenched of its own accord, at once furious and frightened. She couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of the writer, but the matter of which he wrote was far too worrying for her to spend much time being indignant over the man himself.

 

She had been _seen_.

 

The small clock on the wall quietly chimed four and she buried her face in her hands with a sigh. Piles of folders lay in dire need of attention all around her on her desk, but her mind had room for only one crisis at a time. She could only thank Merlin that she had been alone when receiving the letter from a handsome, dignified owl that had swooped into her office a couple of hours earlier. The panic attack that had ensued immediately after opening the dispatch would undoubtedly have caught the attention of everyone in the nearby vicinity.

 

Finding her mind clutching wildly at straws, she suddenly straightened up and smoothed out the letter on the desk, feeling the thick, expensive texture of the parchment. The very sight of the thin, slanted handwriting made her grit her teeth in rage, and she hastily took a few deep breaths to calm herself. It really wouldn’t do, losing it over a stupid letter from an equally stupid wizard.

 

Her eyes flickered rapidly from side to side as she scanned the parchment again, hoping and hoping that she was mistaken, that she hadn’t been seen going upstairs with Oliver Wood in the Leering Lion.

 

‘Bloody – bloody alcohol,’ she groaned, struggling to say the slightest swearword. Experimentally, she tried, ‘Bollocks.’

 

It had been a mistake of such huge proportions, she couldn’t even begin to describe her regrets on it. Well, not the sex with Oliver; _that_ had certainly not been regrettable, but the fact that she was due to marry one Ronald Weasley in five months was the reason why she felt so guilty, ashamed and downright incensed that the author of the letter happened to have been the one to witness the drunken occurrence.

 

‘What am I going to do?’ Hermione asked herself, feeling quite abandoned by her famed intellect. The paperweight in front of her gave no reply, which only made her sigh again and worry her lower lip.

 

It definitely wasn’t in her nature to be unfaithful, but she and Ron had been suffering some unbearable tension that was the result of seeing almost everything from opposing perspectives. It was the kind of situation where Hermione knew she could make it work and even work well, but she wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to.

 

‘Well done, Malfoy,’ she sullenly congratulated her old tormentor. ‘You’ve got me.’

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

‘Hermione? Hello?’

 

Hermione blinked and jerked her head back as a hand waved vigorously in front of her face.

 

‘Oh, good, you’re back. How was your holiday in Spaced-Out Land?’

 

‘Sorry, Ginny. What were you saying?’

 

Ginny Potter sighed dramatically and stirred her coffee with a delicate flourish. ‘My amazingly fun weekend.’

 

‘Oh. Yes. Um, how was it?’

 

‘Boring.’

 

Hermione was confused. ‘But I thought you said…?’

 

‘I didn’t do anything on the weekend, Hermione. I’m married.’ She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and looked at Hermione through narrowed eyes. ‘I just said that to see if you were listening to me before, and you weren’t. So, what’s going on?’

 

‘Nothing. Nothing’s going on apart from the usual.’

 

Ginny snorted. ‘You can’t fool me, Hermione Granger, not that you could fool even Grawp with your attempts at lying. Honestly, you need lessons.’

 

‘No, thanks,’ Hermione said primly as she sat up straighter in her chair. ‘I don’t think I want to learn how to deceive people; it’s a horrible thing to do.’

 

The redhead rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, come off it. We’re not in school anymore. No one’s going to think any worse of you because you can tell a teeny weeny lie every once in a while when you need to.’

 

‘Yes, but I wouldn’t feel good being dishonest in any way.’

 

‘Tall words from someone who made Polyjuice potion when they were _twelve_ to go and spy on Ferret and his little friends.’

 

Hermione sighed and stared blankly out the café window. ‘That was a long time ago. I’ve learnt to do better.’

 

‘I bloody well hope so,’ Ginny said smartly. ‘It’s a tough world out there in politics, so you need to play all the tricks you know if you want to keep up.’

 

‘Yes, well, I’m only in the Law Enforcement part, so only office politics there.’

 

Ginny gave a careless shrug. ‘It’s no different. You’ve got to be able to show your fangs when the competition gets too much.’

 

‘And you know all this from playing for the Harpies?’

 

‘Even a gentle lamb like you would, too, if you hung out with Gwenog. She’s the very reason why witches have any self-respect today.’

 

Hermione pushed her untouched pasty around her plate. ‘Speaking of Quidditch, I finally did what you wanted.’

 

Ginny looked at her brightly, mouth curling into a knowing grin. Hermione felt unnerved by her friend’s eagerness, mainly because she wasn’t sure what she was being eager for.

 

‘You mean you went out with Oliver?’ the young Mrs Potter asked quickly, sounding far too excited in Hermione’s opinion.

 

‘Erm, yes?’

 

‘ _And?_ ’

 

‘And…we talked. I think.’

 

Ginny screwed up her face in distaste. ‘Is that all you did?’

 

‘And we might’ve had a few drinks.’

 

‘Which presumably led to you guys getting drunk and having _wild_ sex.’

 

‘Ginny!’

 

‘What?’

 

Hermione blushed and lowered her voice slightly when she spoke. ‘I’m, well, going to be married to your brother in five months!’

 

‘Yes, but you weren’t actually together with Ron at the time, were you?’ Ginny pointed out matter-of-factly, clearly not sympathetic to said brother. ‘Ron was being an absolute arse to you, so it’s only fair you wanted something to remind you of why men can be brilliant to have around.’

 

‘But that’s still not –’

 

‘Look, Hermione, you presumably had mind-blowing sex with the Keeper from a top national team andit _wasn’t_ cheating, because you’d broken off the engagement for the week, so what’s there to worry about? Just make the most of it and enjoy the memories. You might need them after you’re married to Ron.’

 

‘I can’t believe you’re saying that about your own brother,’ Hermione said with a rueful shake of her head. Ginny continued to look completely blasé about it all and daintily sipped her coffee as she idly glanced around the small coffee shop.

 

‘He might be my brother, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to his faults. And he’s got a lot more than the rest of the family, let me tell you.’

 

‘Yes, but you’ve got to think of it from his perspective –’

 

‘You’re not denying it.’

 

Hermione paused. ‘No. Well, no, I’m not, because I, of all people, know what Ron can be like.’

 

‘An insufferable, moronic, absolutely ridiculous prat,’ Ginny said knowingly while Hermione frowned.

 

‘Um, well, that wasn’t quite what I was going to say …’

 

‘But we all know that’s what you were thinking and it really wouldn’t be surprising. The way he blew up in Oliver’s face just because he was being friendly with you; it was totally obscene.’

 

‘Yes, well …’ Hermione heaved yet another sigh. ‘I guess it was a bit.’

 

‘So don’t you go feeling bad for him or thinking you did the wrong thing; you didn’t. Even Harry thinks so.’

 

Hermione smiled wryly. ‘Oh, the Chosen One agrees with me?’

 

‘Of course,’ Ginny replied primly. ‘And you have me to thank for that.’

 

‘Powers of Persuasion?’

 

‘You bet.’

 

‘I really don’t know how you do it, Ginny,’ Hermione said in a mixture of wonder and envy. ‘I just wish I could do the same.’

 

‘Well, you seem to do it well enough in work, from what I hear. A proper ball-buster.’

 

‘Yes, but that’s _work_ ; I have a professional responsibility to make sure everything meets the Ministry’s high standards, and to see that everyone pulls their weight on big projects like –’

 

‘All right, all right, I get the picture,’ Ginny said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘You just have to learn how to be bossy with people in your social life, that’s all.’

 

‘I don’t _have_ a social life,’ Hermione pointed out flatly.

 

‘No, you don’t,’ Ginny agreed, disappointing Hermione and causing her to feel slightly annoyed at both herself and her friend. ‘And that’s why this thing with Oliver has been a blessing from Merlin. It’s a bit of thrilling adventure and spontaneity that you’ve been badly needing.’

 

‘I wasn’t aware that I’d signed up for a How To Live Your Life seminar,’ Hermione remarked dryly. Ginny merely arched a brow at her and pretended to be in a huff, though that attitude didn’t last for long.

 

‘But seriously, Hermione, you need to go out there and really grab life by the balls.’

 

‘Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be happening even if I wanted to,’ she said, grimacing at the thought of life’s balls.

 

‘What do you mean?’

 

‘I mean,’ Hermione began heavily, ‘someone saw me dragging Oliver upstairs at the pub.’

 

Ginny stared at her for a moment. Then she blinked and the world carried on. ‘So?’

 

‘So they’ve decided to use it against me.’

 

The redhead frowned. ‘How’s that even possible? It’s not like having some grown-up fun is a crime.’

 

‘Yes, but they clearly know how much personal integrity means to me and how I really don’t want anything bad to follow me into my professional life. I mean, just imagine the damage it would do to my reputation!’

 

‘So that’s what this is all about? Your reputation?’

 

‘No, of course not. But … well, I’ve got to admit that I don’t want to be branded as some kind of – of scarlet woman!’

 

Ginny took her time setting down her now-empty cup, straightening her teaspoon and folding her napkin. Hermione watched her with increasing anxiousness, wanting to be relieved of her frustration and alarm one way or another. Her exasperation only rose further at seeing her friend deliberately stretching out the tension that was threatening to make Hermione burst.

 

‘Who’s the bastard then?’

 

Hermione blinked at the unexpected question. ‘What?’

 

‘Who’s the stupid prat who wants to blackmail you?’

 

‘Oh. Um, Lucius Malfoy.’

 

‘ _Him?_ ’ Ginny hissed, making Hermione feel suddenly quite apologetic and embarrassed.

 

‘Yes, him. He sent me a letter earlier today. Please don’t tell Harry, though. Or anyone else. It’d only make them worry.’

 

‘That – that absolutely rotten bastard!’

 

‘Ginny, keep your voice down!’ Then, as an afterthought, Hermione quickly added, ‘Please.’

 

‘I can’t believe, of all the stinking luck in the world, Lucius I’m-A-Great-Big-Blond-Prat Malfoy was the one to see you two,’ Ginny muttered in a deadly tone, eyeing the salt and pepper shakers with a murderous look. ‘ _He_ really needs to be taught a serious lesson, especially after all Harry did for him and his snooty wife and the Ferret.’

 

‘Ex-wife,’ Hermione automatically corrected, remembering that the Malfoy family had undergone a controversial breakup a year earlier that had seen Mr Malfoy part with far more of his money than he had been willing to give.

 

‘He’s got bloody cheek, threatening you,’ Ginny went on, hazel eyes practically ablaze with a fury that made Hermione’s look like mild irritation. ‘We should get Kingsley to throw him back in Azkaban.’

 

‘But we’d have to give him a reason for that.’

 

‘It’s Lucius Malfoy. There’s your reason.’

 

‘A _valid_ one, Ginny,’ Hermione said, a little impatiently. ‘And besides, it would mean having to tell Kingsley about my thing with Oliver and … well, I _really_ don’t want to do that.’

 

‘I don’t know what you’re so embarrassed about,’ Ginny said with another shrug. ‘It’s not like Kingsley’s never heard of sex or imagined that you don’t do it with –’

 

‘Yes, yes, I don’t want to talk about what Kingsley does and doesn’t know about me,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘The fact is, I’ve got Mr Malfoy threatening to take this to that awful Rita Skeeter if I don’t meet his demands.’

 

‘Which are?’

 

Hermione rubbed a hand over her face. ‘To get him his prophecy from the Department of Mysteries.’

 

‘Tell the ridiculous bugger that it got smashed when we were down there last time.’

 

‘He says his got made afterwards and I know for a fact that that’s true. Some old bat – I mean, a well-respected seer in Knockturn Alley made a prophecy about him a year ago.’

 

‘How do you know that? And how the hell does _he_ know?’

 

‘We’ve been keeping tabs on Madame Pampalome for the last two years. She’s a regular for black market trade and keeps doing business around Knockturn Alley even though Kingsley cleared it out ages ago.’

 

‘And what did she say about Malfoy?’

 

Hermione shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I just know that she said something about him because a prophecy with his name on it appeared down in the Hall of Prophecy, according to Kingsley.’

 

‘Well, looks like you’ve got a choice.’

 

‘I have?’

 

Ginny looked at her oddly. ‘Yeah, obviously. You can either give Malfoy the finger and tell him to mind his own business, or you can play his game as he wants it and be a total loser for it.’

 

‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’ Hermione said, somewhat tentatively. Her red-haired friend merely shrugged.

 

‘It’s your call.’

 

‘But – but it’s not that simple! I mean, I just know he’ll go and tell Skeeter about me and Oliver if I don’t do as he says, and if that cockroach were to get hold of this, then I’d be finished.’

 

‘I thought you didn’t give a Fizzing Whizbee about the media?’ Ginny said, arching an eyebrow.

 

‘I don’t,’ Hermione replied quickly, and then looked at her friend somewhat imploringly. ‘But it’s _Rita Skeeter_. You know how she’s just aching to get back at me for everything I’ve done to her and her atrocious career.’

 

‘Yeah, it’s true. That cow will do anything to get at you now. She’ll blow a little fling with a Quidditch star right out of the water and you won’t ever live down the scandal. Just imagine how everyone’ll react and all the hate letters and everyone looking at you like you’re a –’

 

‘Yes, okay, no need to rub it in,’ Hermione cut in with a glare at the younger woman. ‘There is no way I’m going to let Lucius Malfoy serve me to Rita Skeeter on a silver platter.’

 

‘Which means you’re going to be his toy.’

 

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Hermione countered, frowning in hard thought. ‘I think I just might have a way around it.’

 

‘I hope it involves maiming him with a bunch of incredibly painful spells that will leave him horribly disfigured and castrated. It’d be doing him a favour, not to mention the world.’

 

Hermione pursed her lips. ‘Not quite. Although I hope it makes him feel just as bad as that.’

 

She stood up purposefully, leaving behind her untouched lunch in spite of the offended look the café owner threw her from behind the counter. Ginny followed suit, hazel eyes looking calculating as she watched Hermione gather her things and get ready to return to the Ministry.

 

‘So where’re you going now?’

 

‘To see someone,’ Hermione said resolutely, determined to make her luck change.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

It was a mystery to most of the Ministry as to why Draco Malfoy had a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, given his particular background, but none could say that he ever did a bad job. In fact, the last year had seen him given two promotions and even mentioned a few times by the Minister himself, who had described him as being hard-working and unfailingly professional.

 

Looking at his record, Hermione couldn’t quite understand how the Ferret had turned out so … _good_ , especially since he had the Snobbiest Woman in England as his mother and a father who suffered from chronic malevolence. She had heard murmurs of it all being down to love of another woman, but she had never had the time or the interest to find out more from her gossiping colleagues.

 

Working in the same department, albeit in different divisions, meant that she saw Malfoy on a fairly frequent basis, though they never had much reason to talk or even look each other in the eye. It would have only made things more awkward than it already was, especially since Draco was acutely aware of how Harry had saved him not only from the Fiendfyre that had consumed the Room of Requirement, but from a heavy stint in Azkaban as well. He seemed to find it rather discomfiting being indebted to his former enemy, and as Harry’s close friend and a Muggle-born, Hermione could only imagine how the younger Malfoy would sour to see her.

 

It was with this in mind that she stood outside the door to his office, hesitating and doubting her previous determination. She had no real desire to drag Malfoy down with her, seeing as he was actually innocent this time round, but she could see no other way. It was an open secret that Draco, as the only child and heir to his family’s fortune, was desperately loved and protected by his father, although it was hard to see it like that when one came face to sneering face with Lucius Malfoy.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and then knocked on the dark wooden door. In the seconds that passed as she waited for an answer, she examined the gold nameplate that bore the Ferret’s name: Draco U. Malfoy.

 

 _D.U.M_. _Only one letter missing ..._

 

She was just in the middle of enjoying the puerile humour in it when the door clicked and swung open by magic, silently inviting her in. Trying not to worry about what Malfoy would think of her, she forced her chin up and strode in as confidently as she could.

 

‘Ah. Granger. I’ve been expecting you.’

 

That threw Hermione off and she forgot to be assertive for a moment as she stared at the pale-faced young man sitting behind a large desk. ‘You have?’

 

Draco Malfoy wore no particular expression. ‘Yes, and I have been for the last four years, ever since I first got into this office.’

 

‘I don’t understand …’

 

‘I thought you’d be coming by to give me a great big lecture on how to be an upright, model citizen and Ministry worker.’ Still deadpan, he went on. ‘Instead, it was Weasley who did the honours.’

 

‘Ron told you how to be an upright, model citizen?’ Hermione said, finding it terribly ironic and letting it show on her face. A shadow of a smirk flitted onto the corner of Malfoy’s mouth.

 

‘Surprised? Who would have thought, Hermione Granger doubts the integrity of her beloved boyfriend …’

 

‘Fiancé, actually,’ Hermione corrected curtly. ‘And I don’t doubt him.’

 

‘As you say.’

 

She eyed him with a frown, noticing how he looked older than his twenty-five years, and not entirely because of the demanding nature of his job. Somewhere in the pale grey eyes, hollowed cheeks and faint lines, she thought she saw the memories of the war, blurred and faded into the background of who he was. It made her suddenly quite sympathetic, though she didn’t really want to be.

 

‘Malfoy – Draco, I came here to talk to you about your father.’

 

His surprise actually showed on his face this time, although it rapidly vanished under a mask of blankness. ‘My father?’

 

‘Yes.’ Hermione took a few steps towards him, bringing out the crumpled letter from her bag. ‘He wrote me a … delightful letter that I’m afraid I don’t really appreciate.’

 

Draco blinked. ‘Father sometimes writes in a different fashion than what the world’s used to. Did you need help deciphering what he means?’

 

‘I know what it means,’ Hermione snapped, and then said bluntly, ‘He’s blackmailing me.’

 

Oddly, Draco looked thoughtful, as though he wasn’t familiar with his sire’s strategy to corner and control Hermione. It seemed especially strange since she had imagined that he and his father would be, quite literally, as thick as thieves. An education in blackmailing, cajoling and general menacing seemed like the kind of thing Lucius Malfoy would impart on his son.

 

‘What is he claiming to use against you?’

 

‘I’m not telling you that.’ At Draco’s slight wince, Hermione realised how shrill her voice sounded and tried to soften her tone a little. ‘I mean, it’s bad enough having one of you against me; two would just be too many.’

 

‘One of me?’ Draco asked, looking quite innocent for a moment. Hermione looked at him with distrust.

 

‘Yes. A Malfoy.’

 

‘Oh. Right.’

 

‘Well?’

 

‘Well, what, Granger?’

 

‘I want you to make him stop,’ Hermione demanded with as much authority as she could manage. Her confidence, which had been wavering since the beginning of the interview, only faltered more at seeing how immune Draco was to anything she did or said.

 

‘You want _me_ to stop _Father?_ ’

 

‘Yes!’

 

‘That’s impossible.’

 

Hermione stared at him, unable to tell if he was simply bluffing. He really had become very good at hiding his emotions; possibly better than his father, who liked to use them to buffer along his charm and sycophantic slobbering over apparently important people.

 

‘You see, Granger, I, unlike some, don’t meddle in other people’s affairs, and if my father wanted to blackmail you for whatever reason, then I won’t be getting involved when he hasn’t invited me to.’

 

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Hermione couldn’t help exclaiming. ‘People don’t _invite_ other people to come and help them when their house is burning down!’

 

‘ _Is_ there a house burning down?’

 

Hermione looked at him in exasperation and astonishment, unable to recognise the old Draco in the person currently facing her. ‘It was a metaphor. What I mean is, I’m _demanding_ you to get your father to back off and stop this ridiculous blackmailing scheme!’

 

‘On what authority?’

 

His cool indifference made Hermione want to explode, though all she really did was splutter and make frustrated gestures with her hands. ‘On _my authority!_ The authority of someone who’s being unfairly exploited by a person who owes them their freedom!’

 

‘I thought Potter was the one who was responsible for that?’

 

‘Do you really think he would’ve done it if I hadn’t supported it?’ Hermione said, struggling to get her rolling emotions under control. The unmoved composure of Draco both irked her and made her feel embarrassed at lacking the same self-discipline. It took several seconds of hard concentration to bring her to the same level of stony calm.

 

‘You Gryffindors just _have_ to make a scene, don’t you?’

 

Hermione glared at him, but didn’t reply. Instead, she focused back on the point she wanted to make. ‘Listen, Draco, you _have_ to make your father stop.’

 

‘Give me one good reason why.’ Draco sneered slightly and for that moment, he looked very much like his old self.

 

‘Because if you don’t,’ Hermione said slowly and steadily, giving herself just enough time to be ruthless, ‘then I will tell him about how you sabotaged his attempt to get into the International Magical Cooperation.’

 

Draco’s face showed nothing. ‘I didn’t sabotage anything.’

 

‘I think you just spoke a bit faster there. And is that a bit of sweat lining your brow?’

 

His pale eyes narrowed and flickered around, betraying agitation. ‘He’s my father. Why would I want to prevent him from getting what he wanted?’

 

‘Because if he had gotten that position, which I’m pretty sure he would’ve, seeing as he’s so talented at schmoozing, _you_ would have been cast back into the shadows and you’re tired of your father stealing all the limelight, aren’t you?’

 

‘You know nothing,’ Draco said tersely.

 

‘Oh, I think you’ll find yourself wrong there,’ Hermione countered, starting to regain her confidence, now that things were going her way. ‘I know for a fact that had your father landed that job being a Ministry representative in the international magical community, Kingsley – the Minister, I mean – wouldn’t have spared you a single thought. He was far keener on getting your father back into the Ministry than he was about you.’

 

‘How do you know all this?’ Draco asked, wary and resentful at the same time. Hermione pushed away her instinctive pity for him and looked at him directly.

 

‘I have my sources,’ she replied loftily.

 

‘Stop playing around, Granger!’’ Draco snarled, his blank expression suddenly cracking open to reveal the tight core of frustration and bitterness that he had to have been hiding for years. ‘Give me real answers!’

 

Hermione felt slightly shaken, but forced herself to show nothing as she met his furious gaze. ‘On what authority?’

 

‘Dammit, Granger!’ the younger Malfoy spat, closing his hands in tight fists, as though he were imagining he was clenching them around her neck. ‘Tell me how you know!’

 

‘Let’s make a deal, Draco,’ Hermione said with a coolness that she hadn’t known herself to possess. ‘I won’t tell your father about what you’ve done to ruin his life if you call him off the blackmailing.’

 

Draco looked at her with something she assumed to be hatred. ‘I refuse to do anything for you.’

 

‘Well, then, do it for yourself. I can’t imagine your life will be greatly improved by your father knowing what you’ve done to him.’

 

She watched him as he ran a hand through his white-blond hair in aggravation, his composure now lying in tatters as he struggled to make a decision. There was something distinctly pitiful and even pathetic about the way he appeared to be trying to hold everything together. Eventually, he calmed down again just as Hermione had, and fixed her with a deadly look.

 

‘Fine. I will do what I can to get my father to abandon his plan of action and you will not tell him or anybody else about … me.’

 

‘So long as you make sure your father stops completely. I don’t want compromises; I want to hear nothing more from either him or you about it.’

 

The corners of Draco’s lips twitched slightly. ‘Fine. You have a deal.’

 

Hermione hesitated before offering her hand across the desk. Draco glanced at it with what looked to be suspicion before reluctantly extending his own and shaking hands firmly.

 

‘Let’s hope this is the last time we see each other,’ Hermione said in all seriousness before turning on her heel to march out of the office, noticing how the sole occupant of a portrait hanging by the door winked at her as she passed by.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

A week passed and Hermione felt happier. She had heard and seen nothing of either Malfoy men and it was looking to be a glorious day. Winter was on its way out, ushering in the warm spring sunshine that lit up not only the streets outside, but everyone who saw it and felt it.

 

In the short amount of free time that she had squished in between her bulging periods of work, she had been busy trying to repair her relationship with the man she was going to marry. There had been a flurry of romantic dinners, cosy evenings spent curled up on the sofa of her flat, nights of something she supposed was meant to be unbridled lust, and homely morning afters, but something still felt missing. She wasn’t sure she could look at Ron in the same, loving way after what had happened with Oliver, and if she was to tell the truth, she suspected that she was thwarting her own actions to try and fix her relationship.

 

The night with Oliver, from what she could remember through the drunken haze, had been passionate. Her nights with Ron were not. Not on her part, at any rate.

 

She couldn’t really blame Ron. It wasn’t as though he didn’t try to make her feel good in every way possible, but there was something about him that stopped her from wanting him, lusting after him in the way that she expected of herself.

 

Maybe they had been friends for too long. She had heard from her parents’ psychologist friends once that people who had grown up together from childhood were less likely to feel attraction when they were older, their relationship having been one of sibling-ness for such a long time. She and Ron hadn’t exactly known each other for as long as siblings generally did, but they had been around each other long enough to see the other’s best and worst moments while growing up. It was definitely comforting to have someone who knew and trusted her, but she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted in terms of a husband.

 

Hermione hid a sigh as she made her way through Diagon Alley, the time having hit lunch hour at the Ministry. All around her, witches and wizards chatted and laughed as they went on their way with the sort of carefree ease that was a luxury that acclaimed war heroes like her couldn’t afford.

 

Far too often, someone would call her name and she would have to smile politely as they gushed their gratitude for the public services that she inevitably did through her work. The expectations they sometimes rudely pushed onto her made it difficult to be patient, but Hermione forced herself to think positively, reminding herself that at least someone knew about what she did and maybe even cared a little.

 

 _Unlike Ron_.

 

The thought came unbidden into her head and she scowled at herself, although she couldn’t deny the truth her mind spoke. Several passing shoppers nodded their heads at her in greeting and she remembered to smile back, feeling it to be yet another chip off of her quickly decreasing block of patience.

 

‘Miss Granger,’ a voice called smoothly from behind. A man’s voice.

 

Hermione turned and blinked in surprise. ‘Mr … Malfoy?’

 

Lucius Malfoy smiled, as friendly-looking as a hungry wolf. ‘A pleasure, I’m sure,’ he drawled in that lazy way of his as he closed the short distance between them with two sauntering strides. ‘This is such a fortunate coincidence, seeing you here in Diagon Alley.’

 

‘Is it?’ Hermione said stonily. Mr Malfoy was undeterred; he continued to smile a smile that got increasingly colder with every second.

 

‘Indeed it is.’ He gestured to the remaining stretch of lane ahead of them. ‘Might I walk you to your destination?’

 

Hermione glanced around quickly. ‘Actually, I was, um, just going to go in there.’ She pointed at Worthill’s Wondrous Wares for Wizards. Lucius Malfoy simply smirked.

 

‘I shall walk you to your destination.’

 

Hermione could feel her back becoming slightly clammy with sweat as she dumbly started walking, unsure on how to handle the man walking beside her since he had caught her so unprepared. All her usual fire and sense of righteousness had quite suddenly deserted her and she found herself oddly accepting of the situation as they headed down the street.

 

‘It has come to my attention that you did not realise the full weight of the words that I wrote to you,’ Lucius Malfoy began, his eyes idly looking around from under their languid lids.

 

‘I didn’t like what you wrote,’ Hermione answered tersely.

 

‘Clearly.’

 

‘You have no right to threaten me in that way.’

 

‘As if having no rights ever stopped anybody,’ Mr Malfoy said haughtily. ‘Being a famous witch and war hero does not make you immune to avarice and bad reputation, Miss Granger, as we both know.’

 

‘It wasn’t what you think,’ Hermione said quickly, lowering her voice as several curious witches glanced their way. ‘Oliver and I are just friends.’

 

‘Not according to him, you aren’t.’

 

She tripped slightly, but quickly righted herself. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

 

Lucius Malfoy gave a theatrical sigh and pretended to adjust his tie, except he wasn’t wearing one. ‘I had a lovely talk with Mr Wood the morning after that particular night. Suffice to say, it took only a little persuasion to get him to, how would you put it, spit it out.’

 

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks to stare up at him. ‘You _tortured him?_ ’

 

‘Oh, really, Miss Granger,’ Mr Malfoy said with a noise of disparagement. ‘That is such an outmoded practice and I like to think myself to be a man of fashion.’

 

‘A silly fop like Lockhart, then.’

 

He pinned her with a hard look from his cold grey eyes. ‘Let us keep the conversation to what we know, shall we?’

 

‘No, because this conversation is over,’ Hermione said, loud enough for passers-by to understand what was going on. ‘What little I have to say to you, I’ve told Draco already, so there’s nothing more to add.’

 

‘Ah, yes, you spoke to my son to try and convince him to talk to me.’ He looked amused, and Hermione suspected it was at her expense. ‘A cunning plan, with the exception of one minute, little flaw.’

 

Hermione struggled to hold her ground as he quite suddenly loomed over her, his pointed face leaning in until she could see the flecks of dark grey in the irises of his pale eyes.

 

‘My son is loyal to _me_ ,’ Lucius Malfoy said quietly, still smiling, though there was nothing amused about his expression now. ‘He would never betray me or act in a way that went against my desires.’

 

‘Are – are you sure about that?’ Hermione said, the tone of challenge barely there under her trepidation.

 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and then drew back suddenly so that she could breathe once more. ‘Absolutely.’

 

Hermione opened her mouth. Then she closed it again. The thought of Draco all but tearing his hair out swirled through her mind and she felt that sprig of pity again. To reveal the younger Malfoy’s huge secret now would most likely result in his family being torn apart for the second time, the first having been when his beloved mother had left them behind for Italy and her lover. She wasn’t sure she could find it in herself to be so heartless, even when it came to the Malfoys.

 

‘How did you get to speak to Oliver?’ she asked instead, wanting to buy more time to figure out her next move.

 

‘Mr Wood and I are acquainted, in a manner of speaking.’

 

They had started walking again, having attracted too much attention after only a minute of standing in one spot.

 

‘What’s that even supposed to mean?’

 

Lucius Malfoy exhaled impatiently through his nose. ‘Mr Wood plays on my team.’

 

Hermione stared up at him. ‘ _You_ own Puddlemere United?’

 

‘Do stop gawping, Miss Granger. And yes, I am the fortunate, or unfortunate, depending on the viewpoint, owner of that Quidditch team.’

 

‘But – but why does nobody know this?’

 

The smile was back. ‘Everybody _does_ know it. I think that perhaps you, Miss Granger, have been living with your head buried in the sand for too long.’

 

‘Is that why you were in the pub that night?’

 

‘My team had won against the Falmouth Falcons; it was only natural for me to join them, however briefly, in their well-earned celebrations.’

 

Hermione was silent as she processed all the information, finding it unexplainably hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy had anything to do with Quidditch. It was like hearing Voldemort was an avid fan of knitting or Bellatrix Lestrange loved children.

 

‘And you saw me. Talking with Oliver.’

 

His lips twisted into a smirk. ‘I saw you make a spectacle of yourself by indulging in groping Wood in public and giving the rest of us a sight that we did not wish to see.’

 

‘You’re making it up,’ Hermione said, blushing furiously. She was glad to see that they were near the end of the road. The wall to the Leaky Cauldron wasn’t far away and she knew it would be her chance to escape then.

 

‘On the contrary, I am telling you nothing but the truth, so I suggest you be grateful for it, Miss Granger.’

 

‘I don’t believe you. You could just be saying all this because you know I don’t remember everything.’ She didn’t mention just how little she could recall of that night. It would only make her sound even more of a fool if she were to admit that she couldn’t even remember how she had ended up at the pub with the band of Quidditch players.

 

‘Oh, believe me, it happened. I can get the entire Puddlemere team, including its reserves, to confirm the incident.’

 

Hermione stopped abruptly and looked up at him, defiance finally showing as her anger got the better of her. ‘So what? It’s none of your business, Lucius Malfoy, whether I grope someone in public or do anything else with them!’

 

‘You forgot the part about engaging in revolting, saliva-exchanging activities with the Falcons Keeper.’

 

Hermione was horrified. ‘ _Cormac McLaggen?_ ’

 

‘The very same,’ Malfoy confirmed as he adjusted his black leather gloves. ‘You seemed to be rather enjoying yourself.’

 

‘That’s disgusting!’

 

‘I quite agree.’

 

‘And it’s not true! I would never, _ever_ go anywhere _near_ Cormac, even in a hundred years!’

 

‘Well, if that is what you are inclined to believe, then four Dragontails should prove you very wrong, Miss Granger.’

 

‘Dragontails? Who on earth gave me _Dragontails_ to drink?’

 

Lucius Malfoy looked extremely smug. ‘I did.’

 

‘ _You?_ ’

 

He stopped and looked down his nose at her, his thin lips curled up in the most self-assured and infuriating smile that Hermione had ever seen.

 

‘I am more than happy to take the credit for the direction of your adventures that evening,’ he drawled, carefully smoothing back his long, sleek hair that was the same white-blond as his son’s. ‘However, I really don’t know why you are in such a temper over it; I am quite certain you have never had such a marvellous time in your entire life.’

 

‘You – you _revolting man!_ This is a complete breach of human rights! I – I – the Minister will be hearing about this!’

 

‘Oh, do stop wailing, Miss Granger,’ Mr Malfoy said impatiently. ‘I can’t imagine how Wood managed to put up with an entire night of you making noise.’

 

‘Why, you … evil, chauvinistic, pompous … _pig!_ ’

 

Mr Malfoy gave her an arched look. ‘Is that all?’

 

‘You are an arrogant, inbred, lopsided beast who doesn’t deserve a single good thing!’

 

He looked rather bored. ‘Anything else that I should know?’

 

‘Yes.’ Hermione swallowed hard and fixed him with a glaring look. ‘Your son – he’s the one who stopped you from getting that job at the Ministry. He knew you’d make a hash of it and so he burnt the files containing records of what you’ve done to help the Ministry in the past.’

 

Quite suddenly, Lucius Malfoy’s face seemed to be composed of ash and emptiness, a far cry from the mask of scorn and arrogance that he had been only seconds before. The shock of seeing the unexpected transition brought Hermione back to the moment and all the fury and indignation dropped off of her as she stared at the man who might have seen death for all she knew.

 

‘So it is true, then,’ Malfoy said, his voice sounding oddly distorted and unlike himself. ‘One who is afraid of falling into the dark shall extinguish my light.’

 

Something clicked inside Hermione’s head. ‘The prophecy. It talks about this, doesn’t it?’

 

Malfoy’s face was a hard mask all of a sudden. ‘I want that prophecy. At any cost.’

 

‘Well, you’re asking the wrong person,’ Hermione said firmly before stepping back slightly at seeing the terrifying look of icy rage on the wizard’s face.

 

‘I wasn’t _asking_ , Miss Granger,’ Lucius Malfoy purred, the silkiness of his tone clashing decidedly with the pure hatred in his eyes. ‘It will happen at any cost, although the cost shall not be mine.’

 

The look he gave her then conveyed enough for Hermione to understand that _she_ was going to be the casualty, if there ever was one, and she was quite certain there would be.

 

‘You are going to find a way to extract that prophecy and deliver it safely to me, or I shall go directly to the _Daily Prophet_ to speak to one Rita Skeeter of that establishment. I assume you know her well enough to understand what is at stake. I am sure your fiancé will be quite disappointed to learn of your wild escapade. Not exactly what a young man might seek in a future wife, is it now?’

 

They had come to stand outside a tall, stone building at the end of Diagon Alley that Hermione knew to be headquarters of the newspaper. Glancing up, she thought she saw a flash of blond curls and an acid green quill in one of the higher windows. Memories of hate mail and unwanted spotlights flooded through her mind as she weighed her options that were like giant boulders crushing her.

 

‘What will happen to Draco?’ she asked at length, no longer feeling the sway of emotions as the logic of her mind returned to rule her.

 

Malfoy seemed mildly surprised, but quickly hid it behind a sneer. ‘That would be none of your business.’

 

‘Technically, it is, seeing as I’m the only one outside your family who knows about what he’s done.’

 

‘And how, might I enquire, did you come into possession of such knowledge?’

 

‘I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,’ Hermione said with a humourless smile. Lucius Malfoy looked at her calculatingly before his sharp features smoothed out into a look of false charm.

 

‘I worked extremely hard for the position that was robbed of me; I don’t think I can be very forgiving of the fool who ruined my chances for selfish reasons.’

 

‘Even though he’s your son?’

 

Lucius paused before replying, his voice sounding a little tight. ‘Even though he is my son.’

 

‘You won’t hurt him, will you?’

 

He smiled on blithely at her. ‘I have answered your question. You will now do the same of mine.’

 

‘Fine,’ Hermione conceded reluctantly, drawing away from the building and into the shadows of the archway that led to the Leaky Cauldron. She didn’t think it too much to suspect that Rita Skeeter was looking into their affairs before she had even been told to. Malfoy seemed to understand her concern, although he certainly didn’t share her apprehension as he followed her at a leisurely pace, appearing to have nothing to hide. Hermione merely gave him a withering look.

 

‘I don’t know if you’re aware, but there are portraits in Ministry offices that are sometimes used for … surveillance.’

 

He gave a disdainful sniff. ‘You have been watching my son.’

 

‘How did you ...? Oh, never mind. Yes, I’ve been watching your son for the past two

years on my boss’ orders. Or more like your niece has been watching him.’

 

Malfoy frowned then. ‘I don’t have a niece.’

 

‘I don’t know if that’s because your family have never acknowledged her or because she’s dead, but at any rate, Auror Nymphadora Tonks continues to do work for the Ministry despite having passed on. It’s her portrait that’s in Draco’s office’

 

‘Tonks,’ Malfoy said with a look of utter distaste. ‘Such an absurd name.’

 

‘She was your wife’s niece.’

 

‘I know who she is,’ he snapped before clearing his throat slightly and regaining the sleek quality to his voice. ‘That is to say, I know _of_ her. I can’t say she has ever been of much interest to anyone in my family.’

 

‘Well, she seems to be on quite good terms with your son. He’s told her quite a bit about how he feels on … well, this and that.’

 

Malfoy sneered. ‘My son has had the misfortune of inheriting a sentimental streak from my former wife’s side. Merlin knows that _I_ don’t come from such snivelling stock.’

 

Hermione said nothing, realising that he was exposing a chink in his chilly armour in the shape of his wounded pride. It was, on reflection, more of a gaping hole than a chink, mirroring the ratio at which Mr Malfoy’s ego seemed to stand with him.

 

‘Anyway, it seems that Draco thought he could trust Tonks enough to tell her how he felt about, well, you, and she watched him burn the files.’

 

Lucius Malfoy’s complexion seemed to have turned paler than before, if that was even possible, but his emotions stayed firmly locked behind his hard grey eyes. ‘Bad judgement is a tragedy, but using it is a catastrophe. It seems I have left some branches untrimmed for too long.’

 

Hermione felt a flicker of panic as she imagined what might be going on in the wizard’s mind. ‘You won’t hurt him, will you?

 

Keenly, she waited for his answer, only growing more worried when he continued to brood.

 

‘Mr Malfoy?

 

His gaze snapped to her and he eyed her coldly.

 

‘You – you won’t hurt Draco,’ Hermione said, trying to assert the assumed truth despite her uncertainty. ‘You can’t. I mean, he’s your son! It would be madness to do anything to him …’

 

‘Get me the prophecy and we shall see.’

 

‘But even if I managed to get into the Hall of Prophecy, it would be pointless, because you’re the only one who can touch it.’

 

‘Ah, yes, that may be so in most cases, Miss Granger, but this particular prophecy, you can touch.’

 

‘How?’

 

His smile thinned and grew unnervingly chilly. ‘Because it involves you.’

 

Hermione blinked once. Then she blinked again. ‘How is that even possible?’

 

‘How is it not?’ Malfoy suggested breezily.

 

‘That’s impossible! The prophecy record bears only your name. There must be some mistake.’

 

‘It was foretold by Madame Pampalome and she is not called the greatest seer of our time for nothing.’

 

‘I – I don’t believe in prophecies,’ Hermione said, taking a few steps back to put distance between herself and the wizard who was possibly one of the last people on earth she would want to be involved in anything with. ‘They’re not real.’

 

‘They are what you make of them, Miss Granger,’ Lucius Malfoy said, voice dropping to a low purr once again as he advanced like a hungry cat on its prey. ‘Now, I shall not have one stubborn little witch ruining the plans that took quite some effort to orchestrate, so you shall find a way to penetrate the security in the Department of Mysteries and fetch me that prophecy.’

 

‘How soon are you expecting me to do this?’

 

‘A week.’

 

‘What! That won’t be enough time! I – I’ll need to first establish a connection with someone who works down there and then think of something to persuade them into letting me–’

 

‘A week. Any longer, and photographs of you getting rather intimate with Mr Wood will appear one bright morning accompanied by the charmingly devastating commentary of Rita Skeeter.’

 

‘I can’t believe this is happening to me,’ Hermione murmured, torn between feeling enraged and shocked.

 

‘Well, I suggest you get to grips with it quickly,’ Lucius Malfoy drawled as he took a few steps into a corner that she knew to be an Apparition point. ‘Your time is running out.’

 

Then, before she had time to protest or even insult him, he had vanished with a light _pop_ , leaving Hermione to stare after him blankly. She couldn’t understand how such a good day had turned so wrong.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

‘Ginny, I’m in trouble.’

 

‘Well, isn’t it lucky I’m here, then.’ Ginny Potter flicked a stray lock of red hair out of her eyes as she plopped down on the sofa next to Hermione. They were making the most of Ron and Harry being away on Auror assignments to indulge in girly chats at either of their places. This time, it was Hermione’s cosy flat that was housing their gossip-flavoured evening.

 

‘Malfoy got back to me.’

 

‘Ferret?’

 

‘No. His dad.’

 

‘That sounds worse.’

 

‘It is and it was. At least Draco’s … well, at least he’s not scary.’

 

‘And Lucius Malfoy is?’ Ginny asked, unimpressed.

 

‘Not exactly,’ Hermione said, trying to justify her initial reaction at seeing the elder Malfoy. ‘He’s just a bit … intimidating, I guess, mainly because he’s a full-on pure-blood supremacist who wouldn’t have any regrets in pushing me off the edge of the cliff.’

 

‘Or a simple Avada Kedavra. I think Death Eaters like him would want it to be a tidy job.’

 

‘Yes, all right, but that’s beside the point,’ Hermione said, a little sharply. ‘What I’m really trying to get at here is that I’m in a real knot because of him, and I can’t see a way out of it.’

 

‘So Ferret didn’t manage to get his precious daddy to listen?’

 

‘I guess not.’

 

‘Spineless git.’

 

‘He’s got enough on his plate to worry about.’

 

‘Like what? Winning the Prat of the Year award?’

 

Hermione shot a disapproving look at the younger witch. ‘Don’t you think that’s being a bit immature?’

 

Ginny simply shrugged and began flicking through the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_ that she had brought with her. ‘It’s just the truth.’

 

‘I think you’ll find Draco’s not half as bad now. In fact, he’s actually almost decent.’

 

‘That’s called propaganda, Hermione. Soon, you’ll be so brainwashed, you’ll be saying how Ferret’s such a nice young man and don’t you think your mother would like to see you bring him ‘round for tea.’

 

‘Don’t be silly,’ Hermione said, feeling a little silly herself for finding Ginny’s example not as ridiculous as it should have been. ‘A Malfoy would never be my type.’

 

‘But I heard someone else was.’ Ginny gave a coy look from behind the magazine.

 

‘What? Oh, Oliver.’

 

‘Nope. Someone else.’

 

‘What …? Oh, no …’

 

Ginny burst out into a grin and lowered her magazine briefly to toss Hermione a loose photograph. Hermione snatched it up from where it fell on the sofa between them and quickly scanned the people moving about in the blurry atmosphere of a drunken night in the Leering Lion.

 

‘Is that … _me?_ ’

 

‘Mm-hm. Snogging Cormac McLaggen.’

 

‘It can’t be.’ She held the picture away at arm’s length before bringing it close up again. ‘I – I – there’s no way I’d be caught dead doing that!’

 

‘No, but looks like you were caught drunk doing it.’

 

‘Who gave you this?’

 

Ginny glanced at her lazily. ‘Does it matter?’

 

‘Yes!’

 

‘Fine. I got it from some owl that dropped it off this morning.’

 

‘An eagle owl?’

 

‘Might’ve been.’

 

‘Did it look like it could and would tear off your face with its talons, but it had more important things to do?’

 

‘That sounds like it.’

 

‘That … monster! That lousy, slimy, scheming creep!’

 

‘Not a friend, then?’ Ginny asked lightly, looking amused at Hermione’s attempt at uttering insults.

 

‘That’s the same owl that Lucius Malfoy used to send me his blackmail letter.’

 

‘Why does _Malfoy_ have a photo of _you?_ ’

 

Hermione pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, suspecting a headache was on its way. ‘It turns out he was there because he _owns_ Puddlemere United and they were celebrating winning the match against the Falcons.’

 

‘Oh, shit. I totally forgot about that.’

 

Hermione stared at her. ‘How could you possibly forget that Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater and the man who gave you Tom Riddle’s diary, had bought the team? It _is_ your kind of scene, isn’t it?’

 

‘I don’t usually have to think about team logistics, all right?’ Ginny retorted irritably. ‘And anyway, Malfoy’s the owner, not the manager. We hardly ever see him around in the Quidditch world. Some of the girls call him the Phantom Flyer since all of his team say that they’ve seen him flying before, but mysteriously, no one else has.’

 

‘Well, he’s probably got no time for it because he’s busy making great, big, evil plans.’

 

‘Like?’

 

‘Like the one where he got me drunk on Dragontails so that I completely lost my mind, not to mention modesty, and did all sorts of highly embarrassing things.’

 

‘At least it was with hot Quidditch players,’ Ginny said with a slight shrug, eyes on the magazine. ‘How many girls who get blind drunk can say that?’

 

‘But that’s not even the point, Ginny! If people ever find out that I did something like this – snogging Cormac McLaggen in public and having a one night stand with Oliver – they’re never going to take me seriously again!’

 

‘I think you’re overreacting,’ Ginny said languidly. ‘Anyway, it’s not like having sex means you’re incapable of having good morals and whatever. People to do it all the time. I bet even Dumbledore did it with –’

 

‘Getting back to the point,’ Hermione said loudly, ‘I would never forgive myself if I got found out for this, let alone what other people might think of me. I mean, if Ron were to find out, do you think he’d want to marry me?’

 

‘Question is, Hermione, do _you_ want to marry _him?_ ’

 

Hermione pointedly ignored the query. ‘Mr Malfoy has a point; no guy wants a girl who goes on “wild escapades” like that.’

 

‘Mr Bloody Malfoy should keep his big trap shut, because all he does is talk bollocks. I mean, the guy’s divorced and his wife practically ran off with some hot Italian stallion who’s younger and fitter. I don’t think that qualifies him as a good judge of what works in relationships.’

 

‘I guess …’ Hermione conceded, her mind wandering slightly towards the Malfoys’ affairs before she drew it sharply back to her own problems. ‘But I know Ron won’t be happy in any case. And I don’t even want to think about what Oliver or Cormac think of me now.’

 

‘They probably don’t remember. Either the alcohol erased their memories or Malfoy did. It’s not exactly the kind of thing he’d shy away from.’

 

‘That’s probably why I haven’t heard from even Cormac. I was worried that he’d be hunting me down after hearing about what I did with him.’

 

‘Well, it’s good to know that at least when you’re drunk, you’re not any better than the rest of us,’ Ginny said somewhat cheerfully. ‘Bad judgement and going wild sounds like the average day for the average person. Welcome to our world, Saint Granger.’

 

‘Oh, stop it. Give me some good advice, won’t you?’ Hermione said, aware of how she was actually pleading. It would, she hoped, flatter Ginny in such a way as to get her full attention. ‘I’ve got a major problem, because if I don’t get Lucius Malfoy his prophecy, then he might end up doing something that would harm Draco.’

 

‘Did he say that?’

 

‘He implied it.’

 

‘But he must know that he’s the only one who can fetch his own prophecy?’

 

‘Not if the prophecy involves me as well,’ Hermione said, grimly. The magazine dropped into Ginny’s lap as she stopped to gape, and Hermione imagined that she had treated Malfoy to a similar view when he had told her the same news.

 

‘But … how’s that even possible?’

 

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but I think I’d better to do it. Get it, I mean. I can’t stop thinking about it, now that he’s told me.’

 

‘It could be a trick,’ Ginny remarked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. ‘He could be using you for … I don’t know. Just something far worse.’

 

‘I think it’s harder to get any worse than this,’ Hermione said with a grimace. ‘Being tricked into sleeping with Oliver Wood, and then being blackmailed into having to break into the Department of Mysteries to get a prophecy.’

 

‘We’ve done it once already,’ Ginny said with a wan smile, attempting to joke, although it sounded rather flat. They fell into a short silence as they both thought of that nightmarish time when they had encountered real fear in the form of merciless Death Eaters and had known real sorrow with the loss of Sirius. Even after all the years and all the other troubles that had visited them, the memory of the incident still hurt like an unhealed wound.

 

Eventually, Ginny broke the silence, apparently having recovered her usual tough spirit.

 

‘What did you try to blackmail Draco with?’ she asked with casual curiosity, though her eyes showed a gleam that told Hermione that she was listening eagerly.

 

‘Oh, just something about his job. Nothing big scale; just enough to frighten him.’

 

‘Well, obviously it wasn’t big enough, was it?’

 

Hermione grew thoughtful. ‘No, I suppose not. I wonder why …’

 

‘Because he’s a real daddy’s boy, that one. You could send Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban and Ferret would probably volunteer to go with him.’

 

‘Well, I guess it’s kind of … nice that they know how to love.’

 

Ginny gave a snort. ‘That’s just being sentimental. Don’t go on thinking that they’re like us. People like the Malfoys are a different breed.’

 

‘Still, they should be given a chance like everyone else, shouldn’t they?’

 

‘They _were_ given a chance,’ Ginny pointed out. ‘Several, in fact.’

 

‘Well, Draco seems to be making the most of the chance we’ve given him,’ Hermione countered, finding herself strangely drawn into championing the boy who had once bullied her and her friends and given her reasons to cry herself to sleep at night. ‘Tonks says he’s really trying to stick to the straight and narrow now.’

 

‘Yeah, well, I’ll have to see it to believe it.’ The redhead disappeared behind her magazine again. ‘You never did say what exactly you used against Draco.’

 

‘It was something that’s confidential.’

 

‘Right.’ She sounded expectant.

 

‘So … I can’t tell you,’ Hermione said slowly. ‘It would be a breach of confidence and very unprofessional.’

 

‘Sure.’

 

‘I’m being serious, Ginny. It’s bad enough that I said I’d use it against him – I really wasn’t going to – but then Lucius Malfoy made me so mad, I guess I forgot myself and told him.’

 

‘Told him what?’

 

‘I … I can’t tell you.’

 

Ginny thwacked the magazine down on her lap and glared over at Hermione. ‘Then what’s the point in confiding in me if you can’t even tell me the most important bits?’

 

Hermione sighed and stood up. ‘I’ll go and make us some hot chocolate.’

 

‘Does that mean you’re really not going to tell me?’

 

‘Not yet. I think I’ve done enough crossing boundaries for one week.’

 

Ginny simply huffed and returned to _Witch Weekly_ , turning the pages with more force than necessary. Hermione quirked her lips, then shook her head ruefully as she went off into the kitchen.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

‘Does anyone we know work in the Department of Mysteries?’

 

Arthur Weasley looked up and blinked at Hermione from across the Weasleys’ kitchen table. ‘I don’t think so.’

 

Hermione sighed and rubbed a hand over her tired eyes. She had already lost a day on trying to find out if visitors, either approved or not, could get in to the department that had gained further security measures since Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken on the role of Minister for Magic.

 

‘Does _anyone_ work there?’ she asked, feeling miserable and wanting to strangle Lucius Malfoy.

 

‘Kingsley’s the only one who knows the exact number and names of the Unspeakables who work there,’ Arthur explained, looking at her with a sympathetic expression on his kindly face. ‘For security purposes, you know.’

 

‘Of course,’ Hermione said with a weak smile, silently ruling out the option of approaching Kingsley himself and asking permission. It would only lead to more explanations which she wasn’t willing to give and blow everything out of proportion.

 

‘Why, what’s on your mind, Hermione?’

 

Hermione glanced up to see Arthur looking at her with his usual kindly smile, and felt a pang of guilt. He and Molly had been so excited to hear that she had accepted Ron’s proposal; she almost thought that she should get married purely for their sake. She couldn’t bear the idea of their disappointment, which would undoubtedly be ginormous.

 

‘It’s nothing,’ she assured her future father-in-law with a weak smile. ‘I’m just curious, that’s all.’

 

Arthur nodded genially before asking, ‘How’re the wedding plans going?’

 

‘Good.’ Hermione braved a wider smile. ‘They’re going well.’

 

‘I’m glad to hear it. You know, Molly and I were just saying, there’s no way this wedding is going to go badly, because first of all, you’re the bride, and if there’s one person who we can trust to organise everything, it’s you. And then there’s the fact that there won’t be any Death Eaters to come and break up the party.’

 

Hermione’s smile grew a little stiff as she tried to humour Arthur as he chuckled at his own joke. The feeling of guilt rippled over her again and she hid a grimace. She couldn’t even look him properly in the eye anymore, and she wondered what would happen if she were to ever divulge the horrible secrets she had recently acquired.

 

From somewhere outside, the voice of Mrs Weasley sounded shrill and high as she called for her husband. Arthur Weasley smiled at Hermione a little sheepishly before hurrying out, leaving her to bury her face in her hands with a long groan of hopelessness.

 

Merlin, she was really beginning to hate Lucius Malfoy.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

‘Draco?’

 

Draco Malfoy turned around in the corridor, a cautious look etched on his pale face. Hermione quickened her pace to catch up with him, stopping when she was a few feet away.

 

‘What do you want?’ Draco demanded coldly.

 

Hermione paused to catch her breath, having come running with a stack of heavy books from the other end of the long hallway. ‘We – we had a deal,’ she panted, balancing her books awkwardly in one hand to hold a hand over her burning chest.

 

‘I don’t make deals with Mudbloods,’ he said with a pinched look.

 

‘Oh, stop that. I know you don’t really believe in all that pure-blood rubbish,’ Hermione said with an irritable wave of her hand, aware that Draco looked a little taken aback and affronted. ‘I just came here to warn you that since you didn’t fulfil your side of the deal, I didn’t stick to mine either, though it wasn’t really a matter of choice.’

 

‘ _What?_ ’ Draco said sharply. Hermione studied his face for a moment before setting down the hefty tomes that she had been carrying on the floor. Then she straightened up to look him directly in the eyes, bracing herself for what was to come.

 

‘Your father found me in Diagon Alley the other day and said that he was going to keep on blackmailing me, because he didn’t care for what you told him.’

 

She paused, noticing his hands curling into fists at his side.

 

‘We had an argument that mentioned you, and I, er, got a bit carried away in the heat of the moment and might’ve told him that he was wrong to think you were completely loyal to him.’

 

Draco’s face suddenly became flushed while his eyes tightened in anger.

 

‘I may have just told him that … well, that you burnt his good records.’

 

By this time, Hermione had slipped her hand into the hidden pocket of her robes where her fingers clutched her wand. She couldn’t predict whether Draco was going to wildly lash out at her with a myriad of colourful curses, or if he was simply going to crumple where he stood, quite lost and lifeless.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at length, feeling that she had to say _something_. To her surprise and great relief, Draco’s face seemed to smooth out at her apology and his gaze, though still glaring to some extent, looked less like murder and more like scorn.

 

‘Tonks has been talking, hasn’t she?’

 

Hermione couldn’t help looking guilty. She nodded in affirmative.

 

‘I’d kill her for that if she wasn’t dead already,’ Draco said coldly, although something about the way he said it made Hermione think that he was simply acting tough. ‘As it is, we’ve got to find a way to get rid of my father.’

 

‘What?’ Hermione said quickly, alarmed.

 

‘I’m not going to _kill_ him,’ Draco assured her haughtily. ‘I’m just going to give him an ultimatum.’

 

The oddly menacing way in which he spoke the last word made Hermione convinced that this time, he was being serious about teaching someone a lesson, and she didn’t think she could live with herself if she became the cause of a massive rift between family members. After all, she wasn’t a homewrecker of any kind.

 

‘No, listen, Draco, I know what your father wants,’ Hermione said quickly, not at all keen on the idea of Malfoys fighting in spite of how well-deserved it sounded to be. ‘There’s this prophecy – _his_ prophecy – which he seems desperate to get.’

 

Draco frowned. ‘How would he have heard of getting a prophecy?’

 

For a moment, Hermione was worried as she realised that father and son were not nearly as close as she had assumed them to be. It seemed odd to be hearing a little from each side that demonstrated they lived in some kind of medieval era where family members killed each other off like flies in order to get a leg up the power ladder. She sincerely hoped that it was only a temporary lapse in love that the two Malfoy men were experiencing.

 

‘I don’t know how he knows about it, but the important thing is, he _knows_ ,’ she said, feeling much better now that she was actually working with Draco and not against him. ‘And if I don’t get it for him in a week, there’s a chance of it becoming dangerous for you.’

 

Draco gave a slight snort. ‘I’m not scared of my father,’ he said offhandedly, although a flicker in his eyes told Hermione otherwise.

 

‘Well, maybe that’s true, but I’m going to fetch the prophecy, because apparently, it involves me, too.’

 

‘Any chance I’m in the fun as well?’ he asked dryly, reminding Hermione of Professor Snape for a moment.

 

‘I don’t know, but I guess there’s a way to find out.’

 

‘Which begs the question, how exactly _are_ you going to get the prophecy? I assume you haven’t told Shacklebolt about this and he’s letting you go down there to get it?’

 

Hermione quickly shook her head. ‘No, of course not. That would defy the point of trying to keep this thing low profile. Your father’s already sent a couple of pictures showing me in an incredibly bad light to my friends and it’s caused a minor scandal. I can’t imagine how bad it’ll be if it ever goes onto a national scale.’

 

Draco smirked slightly. ‘Father likes using sensationalism.’

 

‘Yes, well,’ Hermione said, irritated that the Ferret was beginning to have a My Father moment at her expense. ‘I still need to find a way to get into the Department of Mysteries with the least amount of law-breaking. It’s not exactly good for my work record, you know.’

 

‘I may know of a way,’ Draco drawled thoughtfully. ‘I know someone who works down there.’

 

Hermione tried not to sound too eager. ‘Who?’

 

‘Theodore Nott.’

 

‘Nott? Isn’t his dad in prison for being a Death –’

 

‘Yes,’ Draco cut in sharply. 

 

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. He’s your friend, isn’t he?’

 

Draco glanced at her indifferently. ‘Yeah. And he’s been bound by Vows, obviously, so he can’t ever say what exactly he does down there, but he may know of a way around whatever security they have.’

 

Hermione merely nodded, her mind mostly on the fact that Kingsley seemed to have gone for a more compassionate route in handling Voldemort supporters who hadn’t merited incarceration. Keeping them close to him in the Ministry probably meant that he could keep a better eye on them while at the same time integrating them into the new society with their positive inputs. It was, in Hermione’s opinion, a good tactic, although she still had misgivings about people such as Lucius Malfoy ever joining the great work they had started in the new Ministry.

 

‘So what does the prophecy say?’

 

Hermione snapped her attention back to Draco, who was looking at her expressionlessly. ‘I don’t really know.’

 

‘But it involves you?’

 

‘That’s what Mr Malf – I mean, your father – said.’

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have no idea of its contents whatsoever?’

 

‘No,’ Hermione said firmly, though she could feel herself protesting at pushing out yet another lie. She was actually slightly relieved when Draco’s piercing gaze settled on her and his pointed features pulled on a sour face, telling her that he didn’t believe her. Somehow, it felt better to be found out lying than to be getting away with it.

 

‘You _do_ know, don’t you?’ he said quietly. ‘And it’s about me, too, isn’t it?’

 

Hermione knelt down to gather up her books again, avoiding his searching eyes. ‘I don’t really know, Draco, all right? I just have a hunch and your father did mention something about a light being put out.’

 

She was worried at seeing a new expression on the young man’s face: eagerness.

 

‘I want to come with you to get it. The prophecy record.’

 

‘You can’t,’ Hermione replied quickly. ‘It hasn’t got your name on it.’

 

‘Has it got yours?’

 

Hermione briefly contemplated lying, but then figured that he would see through it anyway. ‘No.’

 

‘Then how are you able to get it?’

 

‘I really don’t know,’ Hermione said, starting to get impatient. ‘Your father simply said that I’m mentioned in it, which gives me the ability to touch it without fatal accidents happening.’

 

‘I heard you’ll be cursed with insanity if you touch a prophecy record that isn’t yours.’

 

Hermione grimaced. ‘Yes. That’s right.’

 

‘Then how do you know that my father isn’t simply tricking you? I doubt he’s got enough decency in him to give a damn about what’ll happen to you if it goes wrong.’

 

‘You’ve got a lot of faith in your father, haven’t you?’ She smiled mirthlessly. ‘A really good, solid relationship between you two.’

 

‘Things haven’t been right since my mother left,’ Draco admitted, almost shyly, his gaze averted to examine the toe of his gleaming black brogue. Hermione looked at him, finding it hard to have anything against him when she saw what a lost boy he still was under the illusion of a cold, hardened young man. It was certainly easier to think of him with a kindness and empathy that seemed impossible to extend to the likes of his father.

 

‘Do _you_ think your father’s tricking me?’ Hermione asked, genuinely interested to hear his opinion, as he was the closest thing she now had to an ally against Lucius Malfoy. She wasn’t much comforted at seeing Draco shrug slightly.

 

‘Maybe. I guess whatever this prophecy’s about must be of utmost important to him. He wouldn’t take the risk otherwise.’

 

‘Mm,’ was all Hermione said, aware that she couldn’t say more without betraying something. ‘When can we talk to Theodore Nott, then?’

 

‘We?’

 

‘Yes. Is that a problem?’

 

‘It would attract attention if you were to suddenly be seen speaking with him,’ Draco pointed out. ‘I’m his friend; I should talk to him.’

 

‘Fine,’ Hermione conceded uneasily. ‘So long as you tell me everything he says. I’ll be in my office till six.’

 

Draco merely grunted in response before turning his back on her and stalking off in the direction he had previously been going. Hermione remained where she was for a short moment afterwards, watching him disappear around a corner and having mixed feelings about the way her mission was going.

 

Working with Draco Malfoy, she decided, was going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

At the sound of the clock on her wall chiming six, Hermione looked up expectantly at the door of her office. There was a slightly _tsk_ from the portrait on the wall opposite, the witch in it shaking her head in exaggerated disapproval.

 

‘He’s not coming, is he?’ Hermione said glumly.

 

‘Probably not,’ Tonks replied as she blew bubbles out of her nose and her short hair turned vibrant purple. ‘Left his office an hour ago and unless he’s crawling here on his hands and knees, it shouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to get here.’

 

‘Do you think he went to see Theodore Nott?’

 

‘He did that already at lunchtime.’

 

Hermione sighed and set down her quill, having had enough of writing letters and making notes for one day. She picked up one letter out of a pile that she had received earlier on in the day and glanced at it again. It made her mood fall even more.

 

‘Careful with that face,’ Tonks warned her with mock seriousness. ‘It looks so long, it’s about to fall off.’

 

Hermione nibbled her lower lip. ‘Ron’s coming home early. He said they’re having problems with some of the leads they were given and have to regroup back here.’

 

‘And you’re obviously just worried for him and not because he’s coming back early, right?’

 

Tonks’ heart-shaped face, her true face, looked back at Hermione when she turned her gaze to the portrait. She felt bothered with confusion and indecisiveness, both traits being unfamiliar to her and making her feel quite awkward, like a teenager all over again. The witch in the portrait beamed at her, as though she could read what was tumbling through Hermione’s unusually cluttered mind.

 

‘You’ve got doubts, haven’t you?’

 

Hermione gave one nod and quickly looked away. ‘How … how did you know that Professor Lupin – Remus – was the one for you?’

 

‘I just knew.’

 

‘Well, I don’t think I know if Ron is … _the one_ ,’ Hermione admitted, feeling it to be all too much, what with the problems brought on by both Malfoys. ‘I mean, I guess I love him, but –’

 

‘You _guess_ you love him?’ Tonks raised one turquoise eyebrow. ‘Can’t say that’s the kind of thing you want to be hearing from someone who’s planning to get married soon.

 

‘It’s five months.’

 

‘You better fall in love with him fast then. It’ll be here sooner than you think.’

 

‘I know,’ Hermione moaned before burying her head in her arms for a moment. ‘It doesn’t help that Lucius Malfoy’s gone and made my life hell.’

 

‘Sounds like you’re not the only one he’s playing about with. I swear Draco’s getting paranoid about his dad trying to off him or something. That’s why he’s doing all his psycho killer talk. He’s too much of a squirt to do any real damage, though.’

 

‘I really hope so.’ Hermione sat up again. ‘They’ve gone through quite a bit already, haven’t they?’

 

‘Depends on your point of view,’ Tonks said with a shrug. ‘But it does sound like that dear little cousin of mine is having a rough time. Don’t think he much likes that stuck-up mother of his gallivanting around with some Italian stud. And it sounds like his dad’s becoming a bit of a basket case because of it.’ She paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Poor kid. Must be tough, having two mental parents like that.’

 

‘Well, I’ve got to admit, I’m a bit worried for him.’

 

Tonks stared at her before breaking out in a rich laugh. ‘ _You?_ ’

 

‘Yes,’ Hermione said, feeling a bit indignant. ‘I accidentally blurted out to Lucius Malfoy about how his son was the one who stopped him getting into the Ministry and now he might kill him.’

 

‘No, he won’t. It’s not like he’s got tons of other kids running about that’ll inherit the family stash.’

 

‘But you should’ve heard him,’ Hermione went on quickly. ‘He sounded … well, really serious. If I don’t get the record of his prophecy, then Merlin knows what he’ll do to get his revenge on Draco.’

 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Tonks told her breezily. ‘It’s just another pure-blood family and their ridiculous drama. Problems are the only thing they seem to inherit, either here –’ she tapped her head, ‘– or here.’ She tapped a finger over where her heart used to beat. ‘There’s nothing you can do but leave them, especially if you’re one of them. I guess Narcissa sort of had the right idea. _I_ wouldn’t have put up with Lucius Malfoy’s bullshit. Poor woman had it for over twenty years.’

 

‘Yes, maybe,’ Hermione said absently, finding her thoughts turning to the subject of her own impending marriage. She desperately hoped that in twenty years’ time, no one could say the same of her as Tonks had just said of her aunt.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

It was three more days before she saw Draco again, though she didn’t fully recognise him when he first hurried up to her in the middle of Hogsmeade, where she had been shopping for little Teddy Lupin’s sixth birthday. His face, though still pale, had a more deathly look about it, suggesting that he hadn’t been sleeping well or at all since the last time she had seen him. In his hand, he clutched several scrolls and there was a general look of dishevelment clinging to his slightly unkempt hair and creased black clothing.

 

‘Draco?’ Hermione said doubtfully, glancing him up and down. ‘Where’ve you been? I thought I told you to come by my office the other day. I’ve lost so much time and your father’s going to kill me. Or you.’

 

‘I was busy,’ Draco replied curtly, hastily smoothing back his hair into a semblance of his usual neatness.

 

‘Too busy to worry about being killed?’

 

‘Look, I’m trying to form a legal case, all right?’

 

Hermione frowned at him, then at the rolls of parchment he was holding. ‘Against whom?’

 

‘My father, obviously.’

 

‘What? Why?’

 

Draco began looking through the scrolls and Hermione realised that his eyes were a little bloodshot. He looked a little mad as he jerkily unrolled and rolled up the parchment, giving her cause to glance around nervously before addressing him again.

 

‘Draco? You do know you have to have a reason to be taking your father to court?’

 

‘I have reasons enough.’

 

‘Are they valid, though?’ Hermione asked, feeling unnerved at how similar their conversation was to the one she had shared with Ginny. ‘You can’t just sue him because you think he’s a bad parent.’

 

‘He _is_ a bad parent,’ Draco said, looking up at her, ‘but that’s beside the point.’

 

Hermione stared at him, too taken aback to believe him wholly. After all, everyone knew that the only people that the Malfoys were obsessed with, apart from themselves, was with each other, and Draco had always been known to be a part of the My Father This and That brigade. It seemed to turn the world completely on its head to hear that he, in fact, didn’t like what his father was doing at all.

 

‘Instead, I want to accuse him of withholding my allowance, which I should have started to receive when I turned seventeen.’

 

Although it wasn’t hard to imagine that Lucius Malfoy would do almost anything to hoard more money, Hermione personally found the statement odd, as she couldn’t see why he would withhold money from his son whilst seemingly giving him everything he might wish for.

 

‘I’m certain he plans to disown me for taking mother’s side in the divorce,’ Draco continued, having stopped his agitated fiddling. Hermione silently gestured for them to walk into a narrow lane nearby since it would give them more privacy. It was clear to her that she and any Malfoy standing near each other was a cause for interest from the witches and wizards wandering past.

 

‘So,’ she began once they were in the safety of the shadows, ‘you think your father’s got a grudge against you because you supported your mother when she wanted to get a divorce?’

 

‘I _know_ he bears a grudge against me,’ Draco replied in a low tone.

 

‘How?’

 

The young Malfoy heaved a small sigh. ‘He never speaks about anything serious.’

 

Hermione stared at him. ‘ _That’s_ how you know?’

 

‘Yes.’ He looked at her sharply. ‘Father never speaks of something if it’s really under his skin. He knows what I did, but he just smiles at me and acts nice. It’s like I’m one of the old biddies in his way whom he plans to poison and bury in the grounds of the manor. It’s making me a bit stressed.’

 

‘I can see that,’ Hermione remarked dryly as he ran a hand through his hair for the third time.

 

‘If you don’t believe me, come to dinner tonight and see for yourself.’

 

‘Um, I think you should go home and rest, Draco. You’re obviously not in the right frame of mind, since you’re inviting _me_ to dinner.’

 

‘I _can’t_ rest!’ he exclaimed with a surprising amount of vehemence. ‘I mean,’ he added, quickly regaining control of himself, ‘I don’t feel particularly safe at home.’

 

‘That’s ridiculous. I’m the one your father’s been threatening, but I don’t feel less safe than usual. Not much, anyway.’

 

‘I haven’t been home for the last two days,’ Draco blurted out. ‘I can’t relax with Father prowling about the place.’

 

‘But where’ve you been staying then?’ Hermione asked, alarmed at how bad the Ferret’s paranoia was, as well as being bewildered by the mental image of Lucius Malfoy prowling around his house like a big, jungle cat.

 

‘My office.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Hence the less-than-immaculate attire. Father would kill me.’

 

‘It sounds like he’s going to kill you anyway,’ Hermione said wearily, although she regretted saying it when Draco appeared to take it quite seriously.

 

‘Listen, Granger, you have to believe me,’ he said with more earnestness than she could have expected from him. ‘My father’s setting a death-trap, for you as well as for me. I’m done for.’

 

‘Are you sure?’ Hermione asked warily, unable to believe him even when he nodded firmly.

 

‘Why else do you think he’s not cursing me into the ground for ruining his chance to go up in the world?’

 

‘Because he loves you?’

 

Draco made a noise of disparagement. ‘That’s exactly the thing he’s been saying to me recently. It’s bloody unnerving.’

 

‘My dad says it to me every time I see him,’ Hermione said, feeling a bit bamboozled by the bizarre nature of the family relationship she was glimpsing.

 

‘Yes, well, mine _never_ says things like that, not unless he means something else. He said it to my mother and the very next day, he packed her off to Italy like he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.’

 

‘So you think he’ll do the same to you?’

 

‘I don’t want to leave England,’ Draco said miserably as he stared out into the Hogsmeade High Street. ‘Merlin, I wish I hadn’t burnt those files. I’ve royally fucked things up now. Father will never forgive me.’

 

‘Have you … well, tried giving him a chance?’ Hermione suggested tentatively, doing her best to try and take on the unexpected role of advisor to the troubled Malfoy heir. ‘Maybe he’d be willing if you were.’

 

Draco’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression cold and drawn all of a sudden. ‘Don’t be stupid, Granger. My father will gut me the first chance he gets, and quite frankly, I might’ve done the same if I were in his shoes. You don’t know how much he wanted that job.’

 

Hermione heaved an especially loud sigh and folded her arms across her chest. ‘You do realise we’ve talked about nothing but your father for the last ten minutes?’

 

Draco gave a haughty sniff and turned away.

 

‘I was actually going to ask, what did Theodore Nott say about getting into the Department of Mysteries?’

 

‘You can’t.’

 

‘You mean we have to break in?’

 

‘If you want to risk losing your job, then yeah.’

 

‘Great.’ Hermione scowled. ‘Just great.’

 

‘Not feeling so good now, are you?’

 

‘At least I’m not turning into Trelawney after one too many sherries.’ She gave him a pointed look. ‘You really need to get yourself together, Malfoy.’

 

‘Mind your own business, Granger,’ Draco snapped.

 

‘I wanted to, but then you came along and bombarded me with all your father issues.’

 

‘I don’t have issues,’ he said tersely.

 

Hermione simply stared at him in disbelief. ‘Tonks was right. You just live one drama after another, and then you pretend that nothing’s wrong when almost everything is.’

 

‘Nothing is wrong,’ Draco insisted coolly. ‘Only my father, but I’ll sort that out soon. He’s got nothing to hide behind this time and I want my bloody allowance. The Wizengamot will have no trouble shooting him down.’

 

‘I can’t believe how messed up you are,’ Hermione said, shaking her head. ‘It’s like something out of another world …’

 

‘Well, you would be, too, if you were trying to get married and people kept doubting you because your dad was messing things up for you.’

 

Hermione looked over at him in surprise, suddenly thinking of Ron and her own upcoming marriage. ‘You’re getting married?’

 

‘Trying to,’ Draco corrected, his lips settling in a thin line. ‘But her family think I’m some kind of frenetic madman because my father dropped one too many false hints.’

 

Hermione pretended not to notice how close he was to looking like a frenetic madman in that moment. ‘Who’s the, um, lucky bride-to-be?’

 

‘Astoria Greengrass.’

 

‘Oh.’ Hermione couldn’t say she really knew of her. ‘And your father doesn’t want you to marry her?’

 

‘He thinks she’s just after the money or some rubbish like that. Erring on the side of caution, he calls it.’ Draco smiled bitterly. ‘I think he’s paranoid since Mother managed to walk away with a huge fortune from his vault.’

 

‘But you _do_ love her.’

 

‘Who, my mother?’

 

‘No. Astoria Greengrass.’

 

Draco made a face. ‘Obviously.’

 

‘And you’ve tried telling your father that?’

 

‘Yes, but he doesn’t believe me.’ _No surprise there,_ thought Hermione while Draco went on. ‘He thinks it’s just a passing fancy and he’s pretty much ruined my chances with her. That’s why I burnt his records.’

 

Hermione’s head was beginning to spin from just hearing the amount of unnecessary drama that clearly dominated the lives of father and son. Coming from a pleasant, comfortably middle-class family with parents who were both stable in their jobs and temperaments, she simply couldn’t understand how domestic life could be peppered with so many servings of revenge and tension. The realisation of what had been the cause of the feud between the two Malfoys made her appreciate how ludicrous the situation was all over again.

 

‘I think your father wants that prophecy for closure,’ she said at length, feeling quite worn out from the emotional roller coaster that Draco had dragged her onto with his unexpected confiding. ‘It sounded like he was going to plan his next move based on what he sees in it.’

 

‘We need to get it before he does, then,’ Draco said flatly.

 

‘But I don’t want to put my neck on the line for that,’ Hermione protested, hating how unfair the world was.

 

‘It’s blackmail, Granger. It’s not like it’s giving you a choice.’

 

‘Yes, I know, but … oh, I don’t know! This is just too much. Merlin, what did I do to deserve this?’

 

‘Stop making a scene,’ Draco ordered sharply. ‘It’s not going to help anything.’

 

Hermione didn’t bother reminding him that if anyone had been kicking up a fuss in the last few minutes, it had been him. It had occurred to her that people like the Malfoys didn’t understand the rules of fairness, and to try and explain them would be a waste of breath. She was much better off turning her mind to how they might possibly get the prophecy with minimal trouble and dubious means, because she refused to get caught and lose her job because of a Malfoy.

 

‘Theodore did mention there being a tiny window of opportunity to get into the Department of Mysteries, but he wouldn’t tell me more. Obviously, he’s under an oath.’

 

‘And you’re sure he won’t tell you?’

 

‘Not unless I blackmailed him.’

 

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, I think there’s been enough of that going around. How about using persuasion? He _is_ meant to be your friend, isn’t he?’

 

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to put _his_ neck on the line for something like this.’ Draco gave her a disdainful look. ‘It’s called professionalism, Granger.’

 

‘Yes, yes, no need to act all high-and-mighty now,’ Hermione said testily, remembering just why she had punched him in the face back in third year. ‘I just need you to try him again. There’s got to be a way to get him to spill. And I don’t mean torturing him.’

 

Draco looked at her haughtily. ‘Contrary to what you think, Granger, we’re not all that bad. Torture’s messy anyway and it’s not exactly approved of these days.’

 

‘Funny. Your father said pretty much the same thing.’

 

‘Yes, well, he likes to talk and I end up listening.’ Draco scowled. ‘Merlin, I need him out of my life. I want my freedom.’

 

Hermione looked at him with sympathy, recognising the fierce desire for independence that he seemed to have been denied for so long. It made her suspect that Lucius Malfoy was withholding his son’s allowance as part of the intricate power play that he had set up within his own family. It sounded exhausting, not to mention ridiculous.

 

‘So at the end of the day, this all boils down to you and your father having a difficult relationship,’ she said somewhat flatly, unimpressed by that fact despite her pity for the rather pathetic figure Draco was cutting.

 

‘He never listens to me,’ Draco complained bitterly. ‘And he’s ruining my life.’

 

Hermione sighed again and gave him an imaginary pat on the arm. ‘Everyone feels like that about their parents at some point.’

 

Draco simply set his jaw and glared out into the open street before them. Several schoolchildren walking close by saw him and picked up their pace with frightened expressions on their young faces. Realising that they weren’t going anywhere with their talking, Hermione decided to get back to shopping, giving him one final look that she hoped conveyed how sorry she felt for what he was going through.

 

‘Will you talk to Theodore again?’ she asked a little tentatively, not wanting to sound pushy. She was relieved when Draco gave a curt nod, for time was running out and there could be no doubting that Lucius Malfoy would indeed make his way to the _Prophet_ ’s headquarters as soon as the week was up if she didn’t give him what he wanted.

 

‘It’s our only hope right now,’ she said glumly.

 

‘I suppose it is.’ He looked bleak as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

People could be a lot of trouble. It was a thought that firmly lodged itself in Hermione as soon as Ron walked through the door of the flat that they had been sharing for the past year. Everything felt wrong from the moment they had looked each other in the eye and she had had to smile and tell him everything was just fine and she had missed him and she couldn’t wait for the summer either when they’d be joined together for good.

 

Ron had smiled his slightly goofy smile – something that Hermione had once loved seeing, though it barely passed muster now – and settled back into home life with the ease of a dog circling its bed before plopping down. It admittedly felt nice to have _someone_ there, but the events of the past two weeks had done a lot to shift Hermione’s mindset, and it was alarming how even someone as familiar as Ron now suddenly seemed distant to her, as though they were no longer on the same page, or even the same book.

 

‘Anything exciting been going on around here?’ Ron asked jokily as he reached out for Hermione, expecting her to come and cuddle with him on the sofa.

 

‘Um, no, there’s been nothing eventful,’ she replied, forcing out a smile and trying to act natural as she walked towards him. ‘Just work.’

 

‘Oh, Hermione, love, you really need to get out more.’ Ron’s long arms circled around her when she sat down next to him. ‘Have some fun, you know.’

 

‘Don’t worry, I have fun at work.’

 

‘Ha, that’s a laugh,’ he chortled as he stroked her hair, his movements seeming quite suddenly clumsy and patronising to Hermione. ‘ _I_ have fun at work; Ginny has fun at work, but I don’t think you can say that about being in Law Enforcement. Paper-pushing isn’t exactly a ball, is it?’

 

‘Maybe I don’t like balls,’ Hermione said, feeling it to be truer than ever as she thought of Lucius Malfoy’s wretched prophecy.

 

‘Yeah, but you always look well nice for them. I still remember that Yule Ball and how you wowed everyone. Even the Ferret couldn’t think of anything bad to say.’

 

‘Are you saying I don’t look nice normally?’ Hermione dared him to answer with a lift of her eyebrow. She was pleased to see Ron grow a little nervous as he rushed to scramble out of the hole he had dug for himself.

 

‘Hey, no, that’s not what I meant,’ he said quickly, grabbing hold of her hand and attempting to charm her with another smile. ‘You always look beautiful, Hermione.’

 

‘Thanks.’ She forced out a smile.

 

‘And I’m so glad we’re in this for good. They do say every serious engagement has to have had a break-up or two. It renews the love and stuff.’

 

‘Or it just makes for a very rocky road later.’

 

Ron’s smile became a little uneasy. ‘Well, yeah, maybe for some people, but even if the going gets tough, at least we have each other.’

 

‘Yes,’ she agreed, feeling just as uneasy. ‘I suppose we do.’

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

‘You, Hermione Granger, have a massive problem on your hands.’

 

‘Yes, I know,’ Hermione said glumly as she took another scoop of chocolate-flavoured ice cream and stared miserably out the window of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. Across the table from her, Ginny watched her with a disapproving glare. Her butterscotch ice cream sat untouched by her elbow.

 

‘You’ve got to make your mind up!’

 

‘I’m trying.’

 

‘No, you’re not,’ Ginny told her sternly. ‘You’re avoiding it by hiding behind all this stuff Malfoy’s laying on you and that’s not good enough.’

 

‘That’s easy for you to say, Ginny,’ Hermione said, unable to help being a bit resentful at her less-than-tender-hearted friend. ‘You’re not the one who’s about to be exposed as some kind of … of … promiscuous hussy!’

 

‘Yeah, fine, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore whatever’s going on with you and Ron.’

 

‘There’s nothing going on,’ she replied impatiently, her temper edging upwards. ‘And that’s the problem. There’s nothing between us and there hasn’t been for the last … oh, I don’t know how many months.’

 

‘But you still stayed with him,’ Ginny pointed out, arching one fine eyebrow. ‘That makes sense, does it?’

 

‘Does it have to?’ Hermione questioned, quite suddenly feeling tired. ‘Love doesn’t make sense.’

 

‘ ‘Course it does,’ Ginny answered promptly. ‘Its sense is that is doesn’t make sense, unless it really doesn’t make sense, which is like when a hippogriff tries to marry a flobberworm.’

 

Hermione looked at the other witch in confusion. ‘I don’t think I really understand your argument. Your examples were …’

 

‘Oh, never mind that,’ Ginny butted in briskly. ‘Point is, you’ve got to figure out if being with Ron is what you really want, because I don’t want to listen to either of you guys moaning about it for the next fifty years or whatever.’

 

Hermione continued to stare blankly out at the street. Then her eyes focused at the flash white-blond hair and a pale face amidst trademark black attire. The wizard dipped into the shadows of a tiny alleyway between two buildings and beckoned to her with one gloved hand. Hermione rose to her feet, ice cream only half-finished and oblivious to Ginny’s questioning look.

 

‘Hermione? What’re you doing?’ Ginny asked with suspicion.

 

‘I … I’ve got to go.’

 

Noting the urgency with which Draco had signalled to her again, Hermione quickly picked up her bag and cloak and was outside in a matter of seconds, forgetting that she had left her friend simply hanging.

 

‘Hurry up, Granger,’ Draco told her in a terse, low tone as she approached him warily. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

 

‘You could’ve just come to my office, you know,’ she said as she slipped into the shadows beside him. ‘It’ll look far worse if anyone sees us now. They’ll think we’re up to something.’

 

‘We _are_ up to something,’ Draco said impatiently. ‘Theodore says we’ve got one chance and it’ll be tomorrow night.’

 

‘That’s lucky. Your father will be off to the press the day after if we don’t give him what he wants by then. I’ll be ruined in less than thirty-six hours.’

 

‘I don’t care about that,’ Draco snapped as he searched his trouser pockets for something. ‘I just want to see the prophecy before he does.’

 

‘How’s your legal case coming along, by the way?’

 

He grimaced. ‘Not well, but it can wait. I need to get to that prophecy; everything depends on it.’

 

‘Fine,’ Hermione said, exhaling in a huff. ‘What do we have to do?’

 

‘According to Theodore, the Unspeakables use a rotation system to guard the department all day and night and he’s on guard duty every fortnight. Tomorrow’s the night when he has his shift.’

 

‘And so, what, he’ll turn a blind eye while we sneak in?’

 

Draco curled his lip in disdain, making an uncanny replica of his father’s scornful expression. ‘Not exactly. He refuses to do us any favours like that, because if he was to notice us, then it would show when he submits his memories of guard duty to the Ministry for inspection. It would be too easy for him to lose his job over it.’

 

‘What about me?’ Hermione chirped, feeling quite worried about what would happen if the Ministry were to question her after the venture. To her annoyance, Draco simply ignored her and continued in his flat tone of voice.

 

‘There’re a couple of other Unspeakables on guard duty with him at the time, but Theodore’s got the corridor leading into the department from ten till midnight.’

 

‘At least that gives us enough time.’

 

‘Not really; Theodore said he would throw us out if he caught us while he was on patrol.’

 

Hermione frowned. ‘And this is someone you’re supposedly close friends with?’

 

Draco sniffed. ‘It’s called keeping to one’s principles, Granger. Theo doesn’t want to play dirty on the job, so he won’t.’

 

‘Well, I guess that’s good,’ Hermione conceded, though she found it difficult to believe that someone who had been in Slytherin and was the son of an imprisoned Death Eater had much interest in sticking to good ethics. Still, it was nice to be jolted out of her prejudiced assumptions.

 

‘He knows it’s the only thing to do since Shacklebolt’s got his big eye on him,’ Draco explained offhandedly before continuing in a more furtive, pressing tone. ‘Anyway, there will be a two-minute gap when Theodore will have his back turned as he patrols a little side corridor that goes off the main one. There’s a corner there that he says he’ll turn to give us more of a chance.’

 

That’s nice of him,’ Hermione said wryly. ‘I suppose we’ll use Disillusionment Charms?’

 

Draco shook his head. ‘No, they’ll give us away. The wards down there have been adjusted to go off when people wearing enchantments pass through. But you should just have enough time to go past before Theodore turns and makes him way back.’

 

‘ _Me?_ ’

 

‘Yes. You didn’t think I’d actually come all the way with you, did you?’ He looked at her haughtily.

 

‘Well, actually,’ Hermione said indignantly, ‘I was under the impression that you would, what with all this “we” talk you’ve been doing.’

 

‘I shall wait by the entrance to the department; keep watch, so to speak.’

 

‘While I go and take the real risks,’ Hermione said, unimpressed. ‘I should’ve known better than to expect you to play fair, Malfoy. It’s just too good a concept for you to understand, isn’t it?’

 

‘I see no reason in two of us going when one can do it perfectly well,’ Draco countered coolly. ‘And in any case, it’s hardly life-endangering stuff you’re going to be facing down there.’

 

‘I should know since I’ve _actually_ been down there,’ Hermione told him waspishly, grimacing slightly at the memories that swam up of her and her friends’ adventure, if it could even be called that. ‘You’d be surprised how dangerous inanimate objects can be.’

 

‘Well, you’ve got brains. I’m sure you can handle whatever comes your way.’ He flicked away a piece of lint from his shoulder, his appearance back to its usual orderly self. ‘If there’s any trouble, I’ll distract the guards so that you have time to get out, if you can.’

 

‘That’s so kind of you,’ Hermione said ironically. ‘I feel so much better knowing that you’ll be there to give a helping hand.’

 

Draco gave her a sharp look. ‘Don’t get smart with me, Granger. You know you’d be one nasty scandal in the papers without me.’

 

‘And you would be fearing for your life for the rest of eternity without _me_ , so don’t think you’ve got the upper hand here. The only one who looks like he’s doing better right now is your father, but that’ll have changed by tomorrow.’

 

‘I’ll meet you in the Atrium tomorrow at half nine. Don’t be late,’ Draco said, pulling up the collar of his cloak as he suddenly stepped back out into the openness of Diagon Alley and disappeared into the stream of shoppers before Hermione had a chance to say anything more.

 

‘What was all that about?’ Ginny asked suspiciously as she marched over to Hermione, having been watching them from the other side of the street. ‘What did the Ferret want to talk about?’

 

‘Oh, just …’ Hermione bit her lip, feeling it to be all too much, especially since she had made a resolution not to give away the confidential details to Ginny or anyone else who might ask.

 

‘If he’s trying to blackmail you as well, I’m going to –’

 

‘No, no, that’s not it,’ she said quickly, recognising the deadly glint in the other girl’s eyes. ‘He’s actually trying to help. Sort of.’

 

‘That can’t be possible. Ferret’s always on his dad’s side.’

 

‘Not right now, he isn’t.’ Hermione sighed as she thought of the cause of all of their predicaments. ‘Turns out he thinks his dad’s ruining his life.’

 

Ginny gave a snort. ‘A bit slow to catch on, isn’t he? The only thing Lucius Malfoy’s been doing is ruining people’s lives.’

 

Hermione nodded, but said nothing. She didn’t think she could trust herself not to launch into a wild rant if she started seriously thinking about how much the elder Malfoy had done to wreck the nice, orderly direction her life had been taking until he had sauntered in with his stupid letter. Her head was beginning to throb dully as she thought of all the different problems that were pressing down on her and how she was going to be breaking rules that she didn’t want to break in order to try and stave off Mr Malfoy.

 

‘Hermione, what’s going on?’ Ginny asked with a stern look, snapping Hermione back to the present where they were standing in the tiny alley.

 

‘I … don’t know,’ Hermione admitted slowly before abandoning herself to the prospect of _not knowing_. ‘I don’t know! Everything’s upside down and Lucius Malfoy wants his prophecy, but Draco wants it, too, and Ron’s back and I don’t know why I can’t feel more happy about it –’

 

‘You need a drink,’ Ginny cut in, but Hermione quickly shook her head.

 

‘I don’t think that would be a good thing to do. The last time I had a drink …’ She tailed off, finding herself too embarrassed to even say what she had done.

 

‘You did what anyone might’ve done,’ Ginny finished for her. ‘Except snog Cormac. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done that, but you guys have some history, so I guess it’s different.’

 

‘I went on _one_ date with him in sixth year, and most of it was spent hiding from him. I don’t think that really counts as having history.’

 

Ginny shrugged as she led them back into the main street. ‘He probably just thought you were playing hard to get.’

 

‘Merlin, men are a nightmare,’ Hermione muttered with a shake of her head. ‘And now I’m worried that I won’t be able to get rid of Lucius Malfoy, even after I get this prophecy for him.’

 

‘You mean you didn’t make him swear on his measly life to stop harassing you if you do this for him?’

 

Hermione bit her lip. ‘Not exactly, no. I think I was too angry and shocked at the time to think things through properly.’

 

‘Gods, Hermione,’ Ginny said, rolling her eyes. ‘For someone who’s super clever, you really didn’t do well, did you? You should’ve just cursed him as soon as he opened his mouth. You gave him too much of a chance and that’s one thing you should _never_ do with a Malfoy, especially Lucius Malfoy.’

 

‘Yes, but you weren’t there!’ Hermione said in frustration, feeling equally annoyed and puzzled at how she could have possibly let Mr Malfoy trample over her like he had. ‘There’s just something … _impossible_ about that man! It’s like he’s permanently using some kind of Befuddlement Charm to confuse people into doing what he says.’

 

‘Which is all the more reason not to let him talk. I mean, he must be kind of dangerous if he managed to get you, the most sensible person I know, to do as he says.’

 

Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘What can I say; he caught me on a bad day. It was completely unexpected.’

 

‘Well, make sure that’s the last time that happens,’ Ginny said chidingly. ‘We can’t let that sly bastard screw up our lives. Merlin knows he’s done enough already in that department.’

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Later that evening, Hermione nursed a mug of tea as she sat in her living room, taking advantage of Ron working late to try and put her thoughts in order. Her head ached slightly as she tried to find a way out of the chaos that her life had become since she had received Lucius Malfoy’s letter.

 

 _It’s all his fault_ ,’ she decided without a drop of pity, feeling that she really had been too easy on him. After all, he had deliberately plied her with drink – although she couldn’t remember how – and had hatched a sick plan to slot her into a situation where he could gather material to blackmail her with. It was, she had to admit, fairly cunning yet completely despicable, which only made her feel all the more stupid for having fallen so helplessly into his clutches.

 

What was the oddest thing about the situation, however, was that there seemed to be something clouding her mind every time she tried to think back to what had happened that night at the Leering Lion. It felt like the aftereffects of some spell were still lingering over her and stopping her from seeing with her usual clarity. She wondered if Lucius Malfoy had placed her under the Imperius at some point, but reluctantly dismissed it as being absurd, even for a wizard of extremes like him.

 

She had also taken to blaming him for the doubts that she was having about her relationship with Ron, which had seemed fine until she had spent a night with Oliver Wood. Even though her senses had been fairly blasted at the time, she remembered experiencing the most amazing feeling and could no longer view Ron’s attempts at seducing her with any amount of enthusiasm.

 

‘Gods, it’s such a mess,’ she told Crookshanks, who was lounging sleepily on the other end of the couch. ‘I don’t think I’m ready to get married.’

 

‘Mraow,’ agreed Crookshanks. Hermione looked at him affectionately before reaching out to scratch his tummy.

 

‘If the Malfoys weren’t so difficult and bad with family relationships, then everything would be perfectly fine.’

 

She wasn’t sure she entirely believed this, but laying the blame on others made it easier to ignore the unpleasant subject of what she was guilty of. Namely, the cowardice that was stopping her from addressing her changed feelings about Ron.

 

‘I just hope things will go back to normal after this,’ she said with a heavy sigh. Beneath her hand, Crookshanks wriggled and lazily waved one paw, finding the issues of humans to be too trivial to bother with.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

The following day passed with alarming swiftness, punctuated by Hermione’s nervous tendency to fidget and fuss and fret as she thought ahead to the night awaiting her, when she would have to break all sorts of rules and principles for the sake of a Malfoy. Which Malfoy it was, she wasn’t wholly sure, but she suspected that she was now doing it as much for Draco as she was having to do it for his father.

 

All around her, life ticked by in seeming normality, her colleagues attending to their business without the faintest idea of her darker plans for the evening. The ease with which she was getting away with something as unacceptable as breaking into the Department of Mysteries (again) made her uncomfortable and restless, and she half-hoped that someone would notice something was wrong and catch her out.

 

However, nobody seemed to discern anything unusual about her, which made her wonder if she had gained a level of invisibility overnight. It made her all the more eager for time to pass while at the same time filling her with dread. Only the thought of getting rid of the Malfoys from her life once and for all kept her from backing out.

 

By the time six o’clock arrived and everyone else began to make their way homeward, Hermione had managed to conquer her quivering nerves enough to bear her fate with a degree of acceptance. She briefly contemplated going home for a few hours, but remembering that Ron was there made her dismiss it as a viable option. Seeing him would only make her worry more, which was the last thing she needed.

 

A flash of bubble-gum pink hair alerted her to Tonks’ return to her portrait and Hermione exhaled in relief. Looking towards the painting, she found herself in the unfamiliar position of feeling her heart to be so burdened that she desperately needed to talk to someone. She smiled when Tonks grinned at her and felt her spirits lift a little.

 

‘How’s Draco holding up?’ she asked, knowing that the only other portrait of Tonks was in the younger Malfoy’s office.

 

‘Oh, he’s doing all right,’ Tonks replied with her usual cheer. ‘Seems to be keeping himself out of trouble today.’

 

‘Are things really that bad between him and his father?’

 

Tonks shrugged. ‘It’s just the typical pure-blood family stuff, really. The son wants to do this, but the dad wants him to do that, and they’ll probably solve it with a spectacular duel where one of them is fatally wounded.’

 

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Hermione remarked, genuinely worried that the Malfoys’ problems would be solved in such a manner.

 

‘I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Lucius Malfoy might not want Draco to marry the girl of his choice, but there’s no way he’ll do anything to actually hurt him.’

 

‘Draco really is in love with that Astoria Greengrass, isn’t he?’

 

Tonks grinned. ‘He’s always owling her whenever he’s got the chance, and sometimes, he sends her little gifts.’

 

‘Who would’ve thought, Draco Malfoy, a romantic?’ Hermione said with a sigh, wishing that she would receive notes or gifts from Ron on occasion. ‘It’s a shame that he can’t convince his father it’s real love.’

 

‘Oh, I think his dear papa knows. That’s why he’s trying to stop him from marrying her.’

 

Hermione frowned up at the portrait. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. Surely a marriage of love is a good thing?’

 

‘It’s only good for the people who’re in love,’ Tonks said wisely. ‘That dear uncle of mine knows that if Draco goes off and gets married to Astoria, then he’ll be all alone, because his own wife’s already buggered off with someone else.’

 

‘But … does he even _care?_ ’ Hermione asked, unable to imagine a reality where Lucius Malfoy felt things like other human beings.

 

Tonks shook her head with a rueful smile. ‘He’s just a person, Hermione. Maybe a dodgy one at that, but still a person.’

 

‘I suppose …’

 

Tonks smiled at her warmly before giving her a wink and sliding out of her portrait, leaving only a plush, purple armchair against the backdrop of a cosy-looking living room. Hermione stared blankly after her, trying to get her mind around the idea of both Malfoys being involved in blackmail and plotting revenge against each other out of love. It seemed an utterly outlandish way to go about expressing their feelings, but the logical voice in her suggested that it was because they simply didn’t know any better.

 

‘Dysfunctional’ was a polite way to describe the family, and Hermione thought she was beginning to pity the lot of them, dislikeable though they were. It also made her feel better to think of them with a hint of forgiveness, as she finally realised that the deep-set resentment and loathing she bore against them and what they represented had been choking her for quite some time.

 

 _If one Malfoy can love, then there’s still hope_ ,’ she told herself firmly as she settled down for a few more hours of work, knowing it would make her focus. She would need that for later.

 

 ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

The Atrium was deserted, save for one lone figure standing by the Fountain of the Order down the middle of the vast hall. The solitary character was gazing up at the figure of one Severus Snape as he stood a little apart from the other deceased members of the Order of the Phoenix who were immortalised in gold. Hermione glanced at her wristwatch as she hurried towards the fountain, the low heels of her shoes softly clicking against the polished wooden floor. At the sound of her approach, Draco Malfoy looked up, wearing an impassive expression.

                                                                                                             

‘You’re early,’ he remarked when she came close enough.

 

‘Sorry,’ Hermione said dryly. ‘I just couldn’t wait.’

 

He merely wrinkled his nose and turned his attention back to the fountain, idly running a finger through the rippling water. Hermione frowned as she watched him, observing how strangely haggard he looked beneath the veneer of being well-groomed.

 

‘You’re doing this for her, aren’t you?’

 

Draco looked up sharply. ‘What?’

 

‘Astoria. You’re doing all of this for Astoria. So you can marry her.’

 

‘That’s none of your business, Granger,’ he told her reproachfully.

 

‘I know, but I just want to make sure that you’re doing this because you love her, and not because you hate your father.’

 

Draco said nothing, but looked hard at the water as he swirled it about. And then he said, ‘I don’t hate my father.’

 

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ She meant it, too. ‘We should go down and check out the area while we’ve got time.’

 

‘It sounds like you’ve done this before,’ Draco muttered as he let her lead the way towards the golden grille lifts at the far end of the Atrium.

 

Hermione glanced back at him and smiled slightly. ‘Between you and me, this’ll be the third time I’m breaking into the Ministry.’

 

A look of surprise flitted across his face before being replaced by one of sullen acceptance. They said nothing more as they walked towards the lifts, glittering gold symbols twinkling down at them from the rich blue of the Atrium’s enchanted ceiling. No guards stood by the checkpoint near the lifts as they did in the daytime, but Hermione knew that security in the building was far from being lax. The use of an intricate surveillance system through portraits was just one of the measures that the Ministry had taken, as well as ensuring that nothing of huge importance was left lying around.

 

Yet in spite of knowing that there was a security system whirring around them, Hermione felt the entire building to be strangely empty and lonely without its usual crowd of workers. Standing beside her as they waited for the lift, Draco appeared stoic, though the agitated tap of his fingers against each other told another story altogether.

 

When the lift finally arrived and opened with a clang of metal, Hermione stepped in, feeling it to be a curiously significant moment, though she couldn’t really explain why. Draco followed her in silently and the doors closed behind him with a quieter chime as he pressed the button to take them down to the ninth floor.

 

A few seconds passed in apprehension before the lift smoothed to a halt and the cool voice of a bodiless woman announced it to be the Department of Mysteries. Hermione took a deep breath and glanced sideways at Draco before stepping out of the lift, feeling sweat beginning to line her palms.

 

‘This way,’ Draco said quietly, gesturing to the left. Hermione glanced both ways before deciding that he was probably right, seeing as it had been a long time since she had been there and the hallway they were standing in turned corners at each end, hiding the final destinations from view.

 

Trying to calm the increasing thump of her heartbeat, she followed him to the corner before carefully leaning out from behind him to peer around.

 

The hallway turned and went directly to a large black door set in the gleaming, dark tiles of the wall, and a barrage of memories tumbled suddenly into Hermione’s mind as she saw it. In the low, eerie light bouncing off the walls, she could see no other corridors and was just about to say so, when halfway down the strip of hallway, someone materialised from out of what appeared to be plain wall.

 

The thin, wan face of Theodore Nott turned towards them and Hermione felt Draco yank her back by the shoulder, causing her to stifle a yelp. Concealed once more on their side of the corridor, they listened as Nott’s shoes clicked steadily across the floor, coming closer and closer towards them until they stopped, perhaps a foot away from the corner behind which they stood. 

 

Hermione held her breath, feeling her heart beating loudly in its cage as they waited. Then, slowly, there was the grind of a heel against the floor as Nott presumably turned around and began walking away from them, and Hermione let her shoulders sag as she exhaled. Draco silently signalled for her to be quiet and leaned out a fraction once again, gesturing for her to join him, which she did.

 

Theodore walked with a deliberate, measured pace as he returned to the invisible entranceway halfway down the hallway and paused for a fraction before stepping forwards and disappearing in a soft swirl of smoke.

 

‘Now’s your chance, Granger,’ Draco murmured quickly. ‘Go quietly, because he can still hear you.’

 

Hermione nodded and swallowed hard before slipping out, glad that she wasn’t wearing shoes that made much noise. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Draco give her a curt nod of approval, which made her feel slightly better and propelled her on her way. Imagining herself to be Crookshanks on a midnight hunt, she made her way as fast as she could towards the door, careful to place her weight on her toes rather than heels.

 

A moment later, she was at the door, and with one final, triumphant glance back at Draco, she pushed it open and slunk in.

 

Twelve identical doors faced her in a large, circular anteroom lit up by candles that burnt blue. Hermione remembered, just as she closed the door behind her, that the room would revolve in a blur of blue flames when all the doors were closed, and she watched as the room did just that.

 

‘Rubbish,’ she muttered as twelve identical doors faced her. She didn’t have the faintest idea which one she should try first. Thinking back to the time when she had stood in the same spot with Harry and her other friends, she raised her wand and silently cast a spell to scorch a flaming ‘X’ on the door in front of her before pushing it open and peeking in.

 

The door opened easily enough onto a long room that was empty except for a large tank standing surrounded by a few desks in the middle. Through the glass of the tank, Hermione saw several brains gently swimming about in clear green liquid and shuddered, Harry having told the rest of them about Ron’s near-fatal encounter with one of the brains.

 

Deciding that it wasn’t the right room, she stepped back out and closed the door, waiting impatiently as the walls of the room spun around again, an orange flame mixing with the blue.

 

The second door she tried led her into a dark room that seemed empty at first, but upon her eyes adjusting, she began to make out the shapes of planets suspended in the air. An odd feeling crept up through her legs and she thought she was beginning to feel lighter, almost starting to float.

 

Quickly, before she had the time to get lost in the strange sensation, Hermione hurried out of the room and marked its door with another flaming cross before closing it and watching the doors spin past her.

 

‘Third time lucky,’ she murmured to herself as she reached out for the next door along and pushed it open.

 

Soft, dancing white light greeted her and immediately, she felt it to be the right room. Without hesitation, she closed the door behind her and walked further into the room, looking around in wonder as light sparkled as though through crystals and bounced off the clocks of various sizes covering every surface available. At the back of her mind popped up the thought of having smashed all the clocks the last time she and her friends had passed through, but she supposed that they had been repaired or recreated.

 

The curiously unobtrusive ticking of all the clocks set a slightly hypnotic atmosphere, and Hermione struggled not to lose herself in the enthralling surroundings and objects. The sight of a large glass-fronted cabinet housing a small number of time-turners drew her like a magnet, and she fought against the temptation to take one of the time-turners and roll time back to the night of the Leering Lion, when she would barricade herself at home and rob Lucius Malfoy of the chance to mess up her life.

 

Realising that she was resting a hand against the glass of the cabinet, she reluctantly tore herself away to check the other doors embedded on one wall of the room, finding small offices and storage cupboards of sorts. It wasn’t until the final door that she found the way into the Hall of Prophecy, and the coolness of the air that immediately began seeping under her skin made her hesitate before she forced herself to walk into the huge, cavernous hall.

 

Her initial dread returned to her as she looked around at the rows and rows of towering shelves that stood on either side of the door that she had come through, though they no longer bore the hundreds of prophecy records that they had done at one time. Remembrances of a chaotic, terrifying night echoed through her mind as she slowly began walking towards the shelves that held the most prophecies, the mystical occurrences recorded in perfect spheres of spun-glass. The same blue-flamed candles stood fixed one to a shelf, shedding barely enough light to see clearly.

 

‘ _Lumos!_ ’ Hermione said in a whisper, drawing light from the tip of her wand that chased away the darkness wherever she pointed it. Stepping up to the nearest row of prophecies, she squinted as she read the dusty, yellow labels fixed below the glass orbs.

 

_Percelus Spately. Edna Sparrow. Harfang Solomon._

 

‘Wrong end,’ she said out loud to herself, finding the utter silence of the huge, lofty space to be horribly daunting.

 

Compelled to be as quiet as possible, she slowly made her way down the rows, peering into the darkness between the shelf ends to discern which ones held prophecies. It was down on a row marked as ‘66’ that she spotted surnames beginning with ‘M’. Swallowing back the apprehension that threatened to make a coward of her, she stepped up to the shelves and began scanning the names on the labels.

 

 _Hortensia Larringbee. Jeremiah Lytton. Jack Mahon …  Lucius Malfoy_.

 

Hermione felt a small swell of triumph as she homed in on the prophecy that she had come for, reaching up with a hand to a shelf that was slightly higher than practical, her fingers almost touching the orb …

 

‘Stop right where you are, Miss Granger.’

 

She choked on her breath as she jerked back in alarm, wandlight waving in all directions as she wildly looked around for the source of the familiar, smooth voice. Her back knocked against the opposite row of shelves and she leapt out of the way as one lone prophecy rolled off and smashed at her feet. A ghostly figure slowly rose up out of the glass splinters, mouthing words that were barely audible.

 

‘My, my, you really have poor self-control,’ Lucius Malfoy drawled as he appeared from the end closest to her, his own wand raised in his gloved hand. ‘How unfortunate for …’ he peered at the label of the fallen prophecy, ‘… dear Evelyn May. I’m sure she will be most unhappy to learn that her future is uncertain once more.’

 

‘What’re you doing here?’ Hermione demanded, heart pounding and wand pointed directly at Mr Malfoy. His cold smile was far more frightening now that they were alone in the deadly quiet bowels of the Ministry.

 

‘Well, if I were to be quite frank, Miss Granger, I would say that I didn’t trust you to do the job I set for you with the correct degree of … professionalism.’ His pale eyes glittered as the light from Hermione’s wand passed over him.

 

‘How – how did you get in here?’

 

‘By the same methods which you employed,’ Malfoy replied calmly, as though they had done nothing more than met whilst strolling in the park.

 

‘But what about Draco?’

 

He raised one finely-shaped eyebrow. ‘What about my son?’

 

‘Wasn’t he …?’ Hermione tailed off, realising that Draco must have left as soon as he had seen her get in past the first door. _The coward._ ‘I mean, why did you tell me to get the prophecy if you were coming to get it yourself?’

 

Mr Malfoy’s smile turned into a smirk as he leisurely took a few steps towards her. ‘Ah, but you see, Miss Granger, you should know that you cannot, in fact, touch the prophecy. I merely told you to fetch it in order to see how you would enter this place, for it would have raised suspicion if I had done any detailed research on the matter.’

 

‘You _lied_ to me?’

 

‘I shouldn’t think that there is reason to be so surprised,’ Lucius Malfoy drawled with affected nonchalance while Hermione could only stare at him in astonishment and bubbling fury. ‘I had no reason to tell you the truth, Miss Granger. It could have been potentially damaging if I had disclosed it to you.’

 

‘But I – I could’ve gone mad if I’d touched it!’

 

‘Isn’t it most fortunate, then, that I have an excellent sense of timing?’ He gave her a haughty look of challenge. Hermione gripped her wand tightly and willed herself not to shoot off the first spell that was clamouring in her mind. She watched with barely-restrained rage as the wizard reached up and easily picked the small glass ball off its resting place on the shelf and glanced it over. ‘Life, after all, is all about having good timing.’

 

‘This … This is unacceptable,’ Hermione said, feeling hollow and vacant in her disbelief. ‘ _You_ are unacceptable! You took advantage of me when I was drunk to manipulate me into a situation that I would never have gotten into otherwise!’

 

‘Oh, there’s really no need for all this righteous indignation, Miss Granger,’ Malfoy said indifferently, eyes still on the prophecy cradled in his left hand.

 

‘And you’re ruining your own son’s life because of your obsession with power and petty desires!’ Hermione went on, wanting nothing more than to knock the prophecy out of his hand and dash it to the ground. ‘Do you honestly not care about anything but money and power?’

 

Lucius Malfoy turned his attention to her then, his grey eyes narrowing while the hand holding the prophecy flattened out and tipped slightly to one side, allowing the glass ball to slowly roll off. Hermione watched it fall, mesmerised and unable to believe what she was seeing as it landed on the stone floor and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The wispy shadow of an elderly witch rose out of the broken prophecy, trailing up into the air like smoke, the sound of her voice just as insubstantial as the last prophecy that had been smashed. Hermione’s jaw grew slack as she stared first at the dissolving figure, then at Malfoy, who took the heel of one polished black shoe and trod on the pile of glass before slowly and deliberately grinding it down into the ground.

 

When he finally stepped back, the prophecy was nothing more than a circle of fine glass powder, its power and potential lost and gone forever.

 

‘You see, the thing is, Miss Granger,’ Lucius Malfoy began in his usual drawl, ‘I don’t believe in prophecies either. As I said, they are only what you make of them.’

 

He looked pointedly at the small mound of glass residue that had once been an orb.

 

‘If one tells you that your son is going to effectively diminish your life in every way imaginable, it is best to destroy the evidence of such falsity ever having been said. After all, I pride myself on knowing my son a whole lot more than some so-called seer, and I cannot believe that Draco would ever do something so atrocious.’

 

Hermione remained stupefied, unable to grasp the entirety of what had just happened. She could only blink dumbly when Malfoy’s gaze flitted over to her.

 

‘I – I …’

 

‘I shall assume that your intellectual input in this entire affair has reached its maximum capacity,’ Mr Malfoy said with his usual arrogance, triggering Hermione’s annoyance, which brought her jolting back to the present. She was just about to make a sharp retort, when the sound of footsteps echoed though the hall as someone hurried towards them.

 

Lucius Malfoy didn’t lose a single second in pointing his wand in the direction of the third person, his other hand gesturing for Hermione to get back in what seemed to be an instinctive move. Finding his protective instincts more patronising than touching, Hermione ignored him and aimed her wand between shelves, watching with terse anticipation as a figure hidden behind the glare of a Lumos spell jogged towards them.

 

A jet of red light shot out of Malfoy’s wand and Hermione recognised it to be a Stunning spell when it hit its intended target and dropped them to the ground unconscious. Feeling somewhat confused about having been in some kind of unspoken alliance with the elder Malfoy for once, she was slower to react than said wizard, who had already reached the fallen newcomer and was bending over to examine them.

 

‘What in the name of Merlin … Draco?’ she heard him say, pure astonishment sneaking past his guard and into his voice.

 

Hermione hurried out to join him, realising that it was indeed Draco Malfoy who had been Stupefied by his own father.

 

‘ _Ennervate_!’ Lucius Malfoy said impatiently, wand once again pointed at his son. He watched with some agitation as air passed through Draco’s nostrils and he stirred, blinking slowly a few times.

 

‘ _Father?_ ’ Draco said with a puzzled frown before he woke up fully and quickly sat up. ‘Father!’

 

‘Draco, what on earth are you doing here?’ Lucius Malfoy sounded confused.

 

‘I … I came to warn Granger.’

 

Both pairs of light grey eyes settled on Hermione, making her feel self-conscious all of a sudden.

 

‘Warn her of what? And how did you even know she was here?’

 

Draco looked directly at Hermione. ‘I heard someone coming just after you’d gone, so I hid under a Disillusionment Charm and saw my father going past.’

 

‘What about the wards?’

 

Draco shrugged with one shoulder, still sitting down. ‘I guess they didn’t reach to where I was.’

 

Lucius Malfoy was beginning to eye them both with a certain level of suspicion and something else which suggested that he wasn’t feeling so loving of anything anymore. Hermione gripped her wand tighter as he drew himself up to his full height – he was taller than most men – and tried not to feel at all frightened as he raised his wand again.

 

‘Am I to believe that _you_ , Draco, have been in league with Miss Granger against _me?_ ’

 

Draco hesitated before answering, ‘It’s not what you think, Father.’

 

‘Your son thought you were going to kill him for ruining your chances at having a decent career,’ Hermione explained flatly, receiving a glare from both father and son in return.

 

‘Granger, shut up and let me do the explaining.’

 

‘Manners, Draco,’ Lucius Malfoy said somewhat distractedly as his brow creased in a thoughtful frown. ‘I should very much like to know how that led to your presence here.’

 

‘I – well, Granger told me about the prophecy and I thought it contained something that would turn you against me for good, so I wanted to see for myself what it was about before you did.’

 

Mr Malfoy’s lips settled in a thin line. ‘Let us get one thing absolutely crystal clear, Draco; I was never against you in the first place, so you have gone and wasted precious time on creating plans to thwart me, and all for no reason whatsoever.’

 

Draco quirked his lips and actually looked a little ashamed under the glowering gaze of his father. Hermione, feeling herself to be intruding on what should have been a private scene between the two wizards, edged slightly more into the shadows, though she continued to watch them avidly. There was something oddly intriguing about a former Death Eater acting like a father instead of a contemptuous pure-blood supremacist. 

 

‘This is precisely the sort of misunderstanding that leads to irreversible disasters,’ Lucius Malfoy continued. ‘And we have experienced enough of that with the debacle concerning your mother, haven’t we?’

 

‘Yes, Father.’ The younger Malfoy looked sullen as he picked himself off the floor at his father’s impatient gesture.

 

‘Really, Draco, I hadn’t thought you capable of causing such embarrassment.’ The elder Malfoy shot a look in Hermione’s direction. ‘We shall talk once we are home.’

 

Draco nodded and appeared to be biting back a host of words that Hermione guessed to be less than appreciative of his father’s treatment of him. He was being a bit gutless, it was true, but she supposed old habits died hard, and defying Lucius Malfoy was probably a lot harder when he was one’s own father, and a beloved one at that. Still, it seemed a shame to have come all this way, only for father and son to continue on in their stilted, suppressed way, and Hermione was suddenly filled with the conviction that it was up to her to do something about it.

 

She had put much at risk in coming down to the hall; she didn’t think one more could make a huge amount of difference, and so she stepped closer to the two Malfoys, willing herself to be determined and bold. Her courage threatened to buckle when Mr Malfoy turned to look at her with the full power of his scathing gaze, which would have levelled her in any other circumstance, but Hermione decided that she was having none of it and tilted her chin up slightly to look back at him with defiance.

 

‘Mr Malfoy, I think Draco has more to say to you, if you’d just give him a chance.’ She dithered slightly when she saw Draco stare at her, eyes wide in horror, but pushed herself to go on. ‘I think he wants his freedom.’

 

‘You _think_ , do you, Miss Granger?’ Lucius Malfoy sneered mercilessly at her. ‘You dare to presume to know such things, just because you happen to be a person that the public will bleat after, being the blind sheep that they are?’

 

Hermione swallowed but didn’t back down. ‘I know it because Draco told me so himself.’

 

‘Draco?’ Lucius Malfoy said sharply with an even sharper look at his son. ‘Is this true?’

 

Draco hesitated for a second before giving a slight nod. ‘Yeah. I mean, yes, it is.’

 

‘You want freedom?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘And I have been … keeping it from you?’

 

‘Father, I …’

 

‘He wants his allowance and wants you to forgive him for burning your files,’ Hermione finished matter-of-factly, growing tired of seeing all the wavering and shying away from expressing more tender feelings. She merely nodded when Draco glared at her, replying out loud with, ‘You’re welcome.’ 

 

Lucius Malfoy appeared to resent her intrusion just as much as his son, although the fact that he hadn’t yet blasted her into outer space suggested to Hermione that he did recognise that she was being of some help in the wooden exchange between him and his progeny. She doubted he would ever acknowledge it, however, which was only to be expected of someone who didn’t approve of her existence.

 

‘Your allowance, Draco,’ Mr Malfoy drawled, turning his attention slowly back to his son, ‘has been kept from you due to some technical issues that have arisen from you having signed your name on your mother’s divorce papers. The document stating the conditions of your allowance conflicted with the conditions found in the divorce contract, and I have been working to solve the matter when not busy with other things.’ He looked pointedly around the vast hall.

 

‘You’re trying to … _solve_ the matter?’

 

‘Of course I am,’ Lucius Malfoy said impatiently. ‘For in the current circumstances, the magic seal of the document will give you access to your allowance only on the condition that you take on your mother’s name. Obviously, I am not having that.’

 

‘But Father, I _need_ that money!’

 

Malfoy Senior merely sniffed. ‘Whatever for? I hardly think you are suffering from poverty in this very moment, and your allowance will come to you soon enough. In the meantime, if you wish for more funds, you need only ask.’

 

‘But – but I’m trying to get married!’

 

‘Yes, I did notice that,’ Lucius Malfoy drawled as he idly fiddled with a serpent-shaped cufflink marking his sleeve. ‘How is that going, might I enquire?’

 

Draco clenched his jaw while his hands tightened into fists, looking far too enraged to fear his father any longer. _At last_ , thought Hermione with relief and approval. It seemed that in matters of love, even Draco Malfoy couldn’t be suppressed.

 

‘I want you to stop interfering and damaging all my chances with Astoria, Father,’ he said with a hint of surprisingly effective menace. ‘I’m going to marry her one way or another.’

 

‘You are being far too rash, Draco,’ Lucius Malfoy said in his languid tone, though an undercurrent of concern could be detected. ‘The girl is in no way suitable for the likes of our family.’

 

‘You haven’t even met her!’ Draco exclaimed, looking exasperated.

 

‘Perhaps that is true, but one need only look at her family to know that she is –’

 

‘Astoria’s nothing like the rest of her family,’ Draco cut in, looking to be a man all of a sudden as he met his father’s gaze with a directness that had been long in coming. Hermione could only cheer for him silently as he attempted to stare down his father. Lucius Malfoy, upon seeing the change in dynamics, appeared to be making some quick calculations in his head before he slowly, reluctantly took a step back to show that he would accept defeat with a mixture of grace and biting resentment.

 

The surprise at what was possibly his first victory over his father left Draco looking a little dazed, his confidence dipping back out of view as he struggled to take it all in. Hermione was concerned to see a smile of sorts creep onto Lucius Malfoy’s lips, but he did nothing more than look like a hungry crocodile who was biding its time.

 

The lull in conversation brought back the haunting silence of the giant room, as well as the elder Malfoy’s attention to Hermione, who had seemingly been forgotten by both wizards until now. She tried to feel unperturbed and unmoved by Mr Malfoy’s scrutinising stare, but could feel a slight blush warming her cheeks in spite of herself. His lip curled in disdain, but when he spoke, it was with his customary courtesy, albeit heavily threaded with irony.

 

‘Poor Miss Granger; she’s been having to listen to our mundane rambling that surely interests nobody, including ourselves. What on earth shall we do with her, Draco?’

 

Draco quirked an eyebrow and Hermione grew worried, especially since Lucius Malfoy was now looking at her with a trace of malevolence.

 

‘Perhaps a nice little _Obliviate_ will help her forgot these trivial matters which she need not have heard. It will give her more room in that head of hers to store whatever useless information amuses her.’

 

‘Father, we shouldn’t,’ Draco argued reluctantly. ‘It’s not worth the risk.’

 

‘Thanks,’ Hermione said dryly.

 

Draco gave her a haughty look. ‘You’re welcome.’

 

‘Then I do believe we have a problem,’ Lucius Malfoy began before he stopped abruptly and signalled for silence.

 

From somewhere near the opposite end of the hall came the sound of footsteps, light yet unfaltering, as though the latest person to join them was unaware of the accidental gathering occurring in the room. With unexpected synchronicity, Hermione and the two wizards silently put out the light from their wands and drew away from the glow of the blue candles, the elder Malfoy taking the lead and slinking down the aisle to look for doors opening onto it. Draco and Hermione followed, looking and listening for what was presumably an Unspeakable on some kind of work-related mission.

 

Their self-nominated leader barely waited for them as he opened a door and passed through back into the Time Room, where the clocks were ticking and chiming their strangely alluring song that sounded like a lullaby. Hermione felt herself wanting to stop and enjoy the tinkling music and sparkling lights of the room, but the sight of the two Malfoys disappearing through the door at the far end made her hurry to catch up.

 

Through the next door, they found themselves in the revolving room with twelve doors, and Hermione briefly wondered how it was that finding the circular room this time had been so much easier than the last time she had been there.

 

Her eyes automatically fixed on the distinct, long hair of Lucius Malfoy as he stood with his back to her, trying to choose which of the twelve doors to open first. An odd feeling settled deep inside her at the realisation that she was running around the Department of Mysteries with allies who had been enemies the first time round. It was almost funny, except the presence of both Malfoys stopped that thought from going too far.

 

‘We could open all the doors at the same time,’ Draco suggested, clearly unfamiliar with how the place worked. His father, on the other hand, seemed to know a little more about it and sounded impatient and annoyed when he spoke.

 

‘Impossible. This room is configured to allow only one door to be opened at a time.’

 

‘Well, I guess it’s going to be a bit of trial and error …’

 

Hermione didn’t wait for anything as she pointed her wand at the door opposite to the room they had just walked out of and watched with satisfaction as a flaming ‘X’ appeared. The two wizards turned around quickly to look at her, one alarmed while the other was suspicious, but she ignored them as she closed the door of the Time Room behind her and the walls spun around.

 

A memory had sprung on her, and together with a hunch, she was certain that the door leading out of the department was directly opposite the one to the Time Room. It had occurred to her to share this guesswork – intuitive knowledge, she preferred to think of it – with the Malfoys, but had decided that they would probably ignore her, leaving her only one thing to do.

 

The walls of the room slowed down to a halt and the branded door stood to their right. Lucius Malfoy glanced at her with narrowed eyes, but waited for her to make the first move and approach the door. He was more concerned about keeping himself out of harm’s way, Hermione decided, than extending his courtesy to the idea of ‘ladies first’. She just hoped she had been right.

 

Tentatively, Hermione pushed the door and found it swung open easily, showing her the corridor, currently empty, that led to the lifts. She wore a small smile of triumph as she glanced back at the two wizards waiting anxiously behind her.

 

‘It’s this one,’ she said quietly before stepping out onto the gleaming tiles, unnerved by her own, slightly distorted reflection on the walls. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she imagined that Theodore Nott would be appearing from the invisible doorway at any moment, and she quickened her step. From behind her, the soft rustle of robes told her that the two wizards were following swiftly in her wake.

 

She had just passed the halfway point when there was a slight hiss like hot iron touching water and a flash of light. Draco cried out before clamping his mouth shut, his left forearm cradled to his chest. Wands were drawn as Theodore Nott appeared through the wall, the seemingly solid wall rippling slightly like water as he passed through it to join them in the corridor.

 

‘Ah, Nott,’ Lucius Malfoy drawled, not missing a beat. ‘On guard duty, I see.’

 

‘Hello, Mr Malfoy,’ Theodore Nott said with a small, respectful nod. ‘Draco.’ He didn’t even look towards Hermione.

 

‘Damn it, Theo, did you have to hit me with a Stinging Hex?’ Draco snarled. ‘You got me on the Mark.’

 

‘Well, I wasn’t going to hit your dad, was I?’ Nott replied with a shrug, clearly undaunted by his friend. ‘And the aim wasn’t deliberate.’

 

Hermione stared at the three Slytherins, rather baffled by the casualness with which they conversed and maimed each other. It seemed as though they were always on the same team, regardless of who they were currently working for, and their lack of conscience meant that it didn’t seem to occur to any of them to behave as though they had been caught red-handed or were catching intruders.

 

‘Well, we are all grateful for your most excellent choice of target,’ Mr Malfoy continued with nonchalance, as though they had simply met in the street. ‘How is your father, by the by?’

 

Nott grimaced and looked angry, but his voice remained reedy and flat when he answered. ‘Coping, I think.’

 

‘Of course he is,’ Lucius Malfoy said, seeming so oblivious to how callous he was being that Hermione had to presume that it was deliberate. ‘Well now, it was delightful to see you, but I’m afraid we must be on our way. Draco and I have an appointment elsewhere that we simply cannot be late for.’

 

‘Sorry, Mr Malfoy, but there’s no way I can let you go without reporting you to the Ministry. I’ve been bound by an oath.’

 

‘Ah, yes, I had expected something of the sort.’ He seemed to hesitate for the briefest of moments. ‘But I am sure we can work our way around it.’

 

‘I’m afraid not,’ Theodore Nott countered coolly. ‘I already warned Draco, but I can’t let you off even if I wanted to. It’s a matter of principle.’

 

‘Well, I suppose I should offer you my congratulations, although I should really warn you, principles can be of the greatest inconveniences.’

 

Nott merely nodded and said nothing. Mr Malfoy gave a false sigh and without further warning, raised his wand to point directly at the younger wizard’s head.

 

‘ _Obliviate._ ’

 

‘Father!’

 

‘Draco, be quiet. We can’t have him hearing our voices.’

 

‘Mr Malfoy, I don’t think this is a good idea …’

 

‘ _Silencio_.’

 

Hermione glared at the long-haired wizard in outrage, but found herself quickly buffeted along the corridor by an anxious-looking Draco. She craned her neck back to look behind her even as she was herded forwards, and saw Lucius Malfoy erasing Nott’s memories with a practised movement of his wand and a small frown of concentration.

 

One minute later, the three of them were back in the lift, Hermione standing somewhat apart from the two wizards, still unable to speak. Draco quickly pressed the button for the Atrium and stepped back to join his father, who was standing without a hint of guilt or remorse in his haughty bearing.

 

With an annoyingly leisurely air, Lucius Malfoy turned to wave his wand at Hermione, drawling, ‘ _Finite Incantatum,_ ’ before looking forwards again.

 

‘Father, what happened to the prophecy?’ Draco asked with a frown, having completely forgotten all about it in the confusion of encountering his sire.

 

Lucius Malfoy seemed to hesitate in answering, which Hermione took to be the perfect opportunity for her to use the voice that had been returned to her.

 

‘He broke it. On purpose.’

 

‘Nobody asked for your contribution, Miss Granger,’ Mr Malfoy said, sounding a little terse, ‘so kindly keep your voice to yourself, or else I shall have to silence it again.’

 

‘Why on earth would he do that?’ Draco said scornfully to Hermione before turning to look at his father with doubt. ‘Why did you do that?’

 

‘Well, it hardly matters now.’

 

‘A seer called Madame Pampalome predicted that you’d overthrow your father somehow or other, but he didn’t believe it,’ Hermione stated boldly, no longer fearing the wizard who was currently glaring daggers at her, now that she knew his weaknesses. ‘This was all an elaborate plan to destroy what he considered to be a false prophecy.’

 

Draco’s face was blank as the lift came to a stop and opened its doors to let them out into the Atrium. Beside him, his father fidgeted slightly, making a show of hiding his uncertainty by taking overly confident strides out of the lift. Hermione waited behind Draco for him to get out, watching and hoping that there would be some kind of reconciliation because of the things she had said on their behalf.

 

‘Father!’ Draco called out suddenly, causing Lucius Malfoy to halt in his tracks where he had almost reached the fountain. Hermione took to dawdling and taking slow, small steps to give the two men a little more privacy, although the acoustics in the hall still enabled her to hear every word that was spoken next.

 

‘What is it, Draco?’ Mr Malfoy asked impatiently as his son caught up with him.

 

‘Is it – is it true, what Granger said?’

 

Lucius Malfoy looked annoyed. ‘I suppose it may have been.’

 

‘Then I’m sorry for burning your files and ruining your chances to get the job here.’ Draco thought for a moment. ‘It was rather … selfish of me.’ 

 

The elder Malfoy gave a haughty sniff. ‘I shan’t disagree, although no one who claims to be in the right frame of mind would willingly work for the Ministry in any case. It is an institute of fools, with very few exceptions, and I would have quite refused a position here, even if Shacklebolt himself had offered it to me.’

 

‘Of course,’ Draco agreed quickly, able to read between the lines of his father’s seeming change of mind. Lucius Malfoy looked at him with muted approval.

 

‘And now, if you don’t mind, Draco, I should like a word or two with Granger alone.’

 

Draco seemed reluctant to leave on his own, but duly made his way to one of the Floo ports lining the Atrium walls and disappeared in a whoosh of green flames.

 

Still by the lifts, Hermione paused and eyed the remaining Malfoy warily, feeling that nothing good was to come of a private interview with Lucius Malfoy. She was determined, however, to prove that she could and would defy him, and broke into a steady walk towards him. Her heartbeat quickened a little as she met his cool gaze, but she didn’t stop until she was within a yard of him.

 

‘You’ve got something to say to me, Mr Malfoy?’

 

‘Indeed.’ His thin, shapely lips curved in a small smirk. ‘Or rather, I have something to give to you. A reward, shall we say, for the services you have rendered me tonight.’

 

Hermione grew flushed at the insinuation she picked out of his words, but refused to bite the bait any further. Instead, she merely looked up at him expectantly.

 

‘I do realise that you have been far more trouble than you are worth, but it will undoubtedly make for an amusing tale at some point to say that the great Miss Granger heeded my beck and call.’ He smiled, looking anything but friendly. ‘It really is dreadful what a little slip in judgement can do to a life, isn’t it? I sincerely hope you have learnt your lesson.’

 

‘I don’t think you’re in any position to give me a lesson on good morals, Mr Malfoy,’ Hermione replied coldly. ‘Just give me whatever it is that you want to give me and we can be done here.’

 

Lucius Malfoy sneered. ‘We will be done here when _I_ say so.’

 

Hermione bit her lip, trying not to provoke him more. Thoughts of Rita Skeeter gleefully tearing her to shreds with that awful quill of hers swam through her mind and made her silent. Her anxiety over it dampened even her curiosity as Malfoy reached into an inner pocket of his expensive black robes and drew out a small object the size of a matchbox. A quick flick of his wand saw the box enlarged to its original dimensions, and Hermione thought she recognised the colourful design that had the image of a couple enjoying a passionate embrace on a pirate ship.

 

‘Patented Daydream Charms?’ she asked with a frown, noticing the trademark triple ‘W’ that stood for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

 

‘They are surprisingly effective, despite having been the creation of two idiots who couldn’t stay in school because it was too civilised for them,’ Lucius Malfoy said lazily, holding the box out to her. ‘Perhaps you might enjoy another night with Wood? No pun intended, of course.’

 

Hermione gawped at him as she absent-mindedly received the box. ‘You mean … it was all just a _dream?_ ’

 

‘Surely you did not think me to be so inconceivably stupid as to try and really blackmail you?’ He gave her a disdainful look. ‘I have one too many Aurors watching my every step, and while I’m sure your influence could be a great asset to have at my disposal, I personally have no desire whatsoever to base my career on something I owe to a Mud –’

 

He caught himself just in time and gave a tight smile.

 

‘A friend of Potter’s,’ he added more carefully.

 

‘But – but that means I put so many things at risk, and all for nothing!’

 

‘On the contrary, nothing was at risk, least of all your sparkling clean reputation,’ Malfoy said breezily. ‘No one was in true harm’s way, which is just the way that you like it to be, is it not?’

 

‘You – you vile, despicable man! How could you be so … _low_ as to trick me like that?’

 

‘Perhaps it would help if I were to point out to you, Miss Granger, that being momentarily deceived is far better than being blackmailed.’ He looked down his nose at her. ‘For believe me, you would not have survived in this world, had I bothered to actually threaten you.’

 

‘You don’t scare me with your big talk, Mr Malfoy,’ Hermione snapped, irritated beyond belief. ‘I expect to see you in court over this.’

 

‘The only thing I am possibly guilty of in regards to this situation,’ Lucius Malfoy replied swiftly, ‘is buying you four Dragontails, which are hardly cheap to purchase, might I add. As for the rest, I believe you owe me your gratitude. I rather think I did you a favour in ensuring that McLaggen idiot didn’t try and ravish you upon seeing your inebriated state.’

 

Hermione could only stare at him, dumbfounded.

 

‘In fact,’ the wizard continued, ‘I was forced to hire a room for you so that you didn’t do anything that would cause embarrassment to either yourself or those around you.’

 

‘But the Daydream Charm …?’

 

‘All I had to do was tell you what it was, and you effectively wrestled it from me before activating it with the appropriate spell. Which, given your drunken state, was surprising and led me to wonder if you were rather too familiar with the use of it …’

 

Hermione felt herself blush furiously, but refused to add to his sneering amusement by commenting. He didn’t have to know that she was in the habit of using the daydreams to find the release that she hadn’t been able to find with Ron in recent times. Lucius Malfoy’s sneering expression, however, told her that he already suspected something of the sort, which only made her blush more.

 

‘What about Oliver?’ she asked, struggling not to die of embarrassment. ‘I’m sure I was with him for at least some of the night.’

 

‘Wood asked you out at my bidding and brought you to the Leering Lion before going home. Clearly, however, he left a strong impression on you, if you went on to _fantasise_ about him…’

 

‘That’s not true,’ Hermione immediately argued before deciding a change in subject was very much needed. ‘What about the pictures you sent Ginny?’

 

Lucius Malfoy was looking ridiculously smug by now. ‘They were merely the products of a little image manipulation. I do believe the media are known for frequently using such spells on photographs of their victims.’

 

‘So everything was fake?’

 

‘Quite.’

 

‘And you did it just to get me to find a way to the prophecy?’

 

‘That was the general idea, yes. You see, there was a chance that you would be discovered on the way, but I assumed that there would also be a greater chance of you escaping punishment, given your particular status in the wizarding community and your friendship with Shacklebolt.’

 

Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or angry. ‘You know the Ministry doesn’t work like that anymore, Mr Malfoy. It’s all about fairness and equality now, so it wouldn’t make a difference who was caught doing something bad. The sentence would still be the same.’

 

‘Well, isn’t it fortunate, then, that you were _not_ caught?’

 

She simply glared at him, not liking how she was having less and less reason to think of him as being evil and heartless.

 

‘Why did you … well, not take full advantage of me?’ she asked instead, half-hoping that he would give an answer that would prove that he was still the Lucius Malfoy she knew and despised.

 

‘Quite simply because you are you, Miss Granger, and I could not afford to wreak any real damage on your person,’ Mr Malfoy explained, appearing to be getting bored. ‘I would make too good a target if the Minister were to suspect anything.’

 

Hermione pursed her lips, feeling a little better at hearing a wholly self-centred reply.

 

‘There is also the small matter of integrity,’ the wizard continued in his languid tone. ‘Personally, I can’t say I find it rewarding to take advantage of a woman under such circumstances, or let others inflict similar things on her.’ He glanced down at the box in her hand. ‘Enjoy your dreams, Miss Granger.’

 

And before Hermione could think of an argument or another question, the wizard turned smartly on his heel and strode away to one of the Atrium’s fireplaces, speaking his destination in a low voice before stepping in and vanishing in a flurry of emerald flames.

 

Hermione stared after him, left with the feeling of not knowing anything at all.

 


	2. Part Two

Life, it seemed, returned to normal. Hermione knew as soon as she stepped into her flat that she wouldn’t be seeing either of the Malfoys outside of office hours again. It was the only way that the world as any of them knew it could go on.

 

And yet, something stopped her from moving on, from accepting that anything and everything between them had finished. She glanced down at the boxed Patented Daydream Charm in her hand, thinking back to what Lucius Malfoy had been saying only minutes before. It still bothered her that he wasn’t the evil, malicious man she had always assumed him to be. The only real thing she could accuse him of being in their latest encounter was deceitful, but it was hardly something that clocked up to being criminal or particularly evil. People were deceitful all the time, including Hermione herself, though she hated to admit it.

 

She looked towards the bedroom, knowing that behind the closed door slept the victim of her greatest deception: Ron.

 

A sigh escaped her lips as she sat down gracelessly on the sofa and tossed the box from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes onto the nearby coffee table. Something had to be done about Ronald Weasley, but she couldn’t quite tell what. Her feelings for him remained unreadable and indefinable, crossing the lines of sibling friendship and romantic interest in what seemed to be all the wrong places. She had to admit she was scared at the thought of leaving behind the comfort and familiarity of their love for good, but deep down, it felt like the right change to make.

 

Hermione sighed again, her wandering gaze falling back on the box of daydreams. She thoughtfully tapped a forefinger against her lower lip. Then, she gave up resistance and threw all caution to the wind as she reached for the box, opening it and watching as swirls of pinkish mist tumbled out in smoky coils that slowly, caressingly, passed over her face.

 

‘ _Somnio_ ,’ she whispered and closed her eyes.

 

The pale, rosy haze filling her view gently rolled to the edges of her gaze, leaving her to look out into a small, sparsely-furnished room. For a moment, the dark, panelled walls and antiquated décor seemed vague and only just familiar, but then she realised it was the room in the Leering Lion and she felt herself solidify.

 

A fire dancing in the hearth flicked away at the shadows while a small candelabrum in the opposite corner shed a little light on the far side of the room, the weakness of its rays leaving a margin of dimness in the middle of the room where an old double bed stood. Hermione walked over to it, touching the rich, dark wood of the footboard before sinking down onto the bed itself, the silk sheets pooling slightly around her. They were dove grey, soft, and sensual, and at once discreet.

 

There was the sound of a quiet click and Hermione looked up, seeing the only door in the room open inwards to let in a man, tall in height and edges made indistinct by the shadows. She smiled, feeling as though she had been waiting for the man all along, even though his face seemed strangely invisible to her and he was nearly indistinguishable in his black attire.

 

The man closed the door behind him and came to her with measured steps.

 

Hermione smiled wider then and lay back against the pillows, realising that she was wearing her favourite crimson negligee. She thought the man smiled, but couldn’t quite tell. The roseate tinge at the edge of her vision expanded slightly before curling back almost out of sight. A sliver of firelight crossed the man’s face and briefly caught his soft brown eyes as he sat down next to her on the bed, one hand reaching out to gently stroke Hermione’s bare thigh.

 

She sighed contentedly and shifted into his touch, shivering slightly as his cool fingertips dragged a trail up and up until his hand disappeared under her negligee. The ghostly sensation sparked her arousal and Hermione wanted him to kiss her, so he leaned over her until his lips brushed gently against hers.

 

‘Oliver,’ Hermione murmured against him as her hand passed through the dark curls on his head, the locks straightening out even as her fingers ran through them. She paused to think when she felt his hair growing sleeker and longer; far longer than it should have been.

 

Hermione focused and looked directly up at the pale face of Lucius Malfoy, his eyes gleaming pale grey while one corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smirk.

 

‘ _You?_ ’

 

‘Were you expecting somebody else?’ he asked, very much in his usual drawl. Hermione could only stare at him in astonishment, unable to figure out what he was doing there. She remained rigid in shock as he leaned over her again to kiss her, the feel of his lips tugging lightly at hers making her fear and resistance melt into nothing.

 

‘Why are you here?’ she managed to ask between gasps as one of his fingers grazed against her sex that was barely covered by a thin pair of lace knickers.

 

‘Surely you don’t expect me to pleasure you _and_ answer your questions?’ he said as he pulled away and looked down at her with a lazy smile.

 

‘I don’t even like you,’ Hermione said with a frown as her mind began ticking. The rose-coloured cloud threatened to roll back over her view. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

 

‘Well, that is hardly my problem,’ Lucius Malfoy said as his free hand languidly cupped one of her breasts, causing Hermione to arch suddenly with a slight whimper. ‘After all, this is _your_ dream, Miss Granger. Clearly, you must want me here, with you, touching you, pleasuring you …’

 

Hermione let herself relax into him and saw the rosy-coloured mist retreat again. ‘Oh, gods, yes …’ she breathed into the warm air as his thumb dragged across a nipple that hardened almost immediately, the sheer material of her negligee presenting the finest of barriers between touch and sensation. Lucius Malfoy quietly laughed in the back of his throat and Hermione felt her knickers grow damp.

 

‘This isn’t right, Mr Malfoy,’ she said in a dazed attempt to protest against what seemed both wrong and natural. ‘It can’t be.’

 

‘Perhaps you should call me Lucius, since we are to be getting rather … intimate.’ At the last word, he stroked her clit through the fabric of her knickers and Hermione choked back a cry. The hand on her breast squeezed slightly and slipped under her negligee to caress her flushed skin.

 

‘Lucius,’ Hermione repeated, liking the feel of the name on her tongue. All else was forgotten as arousal swelled up inside her, pushing away all her thoughts and memories. Lucius smiled at her again before bending down and opening her mouth with his own, sliding a tongue inside to stroke and beckon her before retreating.

 

She felt his fingers, long and slender, hooking under the scrap of lace hiding her from him and tugging steadily downwards. Hermione raised her hips and felt the tingle of air brushing against her moistness, causing her to draw a quick breath and inhale the deep, intoxicating scent of his cologne. He smelt of cedar and mandarin and musk and sheer divinity. She barely noticed as he tossed her underwear carelessly behind him.

 

‘Does it still not feel right?’ Lucius murmured in her ear before nuzzling her, one finger poised down below and making slick circles against her.

 

Hermione simply squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on the feeling that was causing her legs to tremble and her hands to clench the sheets beneath her. There was a whisper of robes as Lucius shifted over to kneel before her, one hand taking a hold of her leg and raising it to spread her before him, his other hand still toying with her down below. He was, Hermione noticed, still fully clothed, but it only seemed to make her more aroused to be in a more exposed state of dress than him.

 

She drew a sharp breath when she felt a finger slip into her and stroke her inside, the teasing sensation making her lift her hips up again, desperate to press herself against something. Relief was given to her as Lucius drew out and slowly, firmly rubbed his palm against her mound, though it was a pleasure gained from the loss of another.

 

‘Please, more,’ Hermione heard herself say breathlessly as she rose up against the pressure of his hand. She thought he might have smirked, but didn’t have time to look for it as she felt two fingers push up into her with a small thrust.

 

This time, she cried out, fondling her own breast with one hand while the other gripped at the front of Lucius’ robes. Her hand slid down as his fingers began pushing in and out of her, and she felt his erection pressing against the front of his trousers. A groan rose up in Lucius’ throat at her touch, but he swallowed it back down and quickened the pace of his fingers.

 

It was far from being enough when she knew there was so much more he could give her, but Hermione still felt herself tightening and coiling up, aching to spring open and undone.

 

The soft, luxurious material of his robes brushed against her as he leaned over her once more to capture her lips in his own, his free hand coming up to knead her breast. Hermione drank him in and wriggled and writhed under him as the indescribable feeling of euphoria burned harder and brighter and vaster …

 

She sat up with a start, panting and flustered as the rosy mist wrapped around her one last time before dispelling into the air completely. A bewildered glance around told her that she was lying on the sofa of her living room, far away from the Leering Lion and all the heaving passions and secret longings kept within that one small room.

 

Under the sensible view of her waking mind, she was alarmed to realise that Lucius Malfoy had been the one she had been fantasising about. In the light, she couldn’t see anything about him that made him worthy of a guest appearance in her dreams, and it worried her that she was thinking about him in such way. Even though she now knew he was capable of more admirable traits, she didn’t think that was any excuse to start lusting after the man.

 

The fact that she had felt even more incredible dreaming about him than she had felt about Oliver only added to her bemusement and unease. It seemed completely out of order, for she had been guilty of finding Oliver quite attractive since Ginny had reintroduced them several months back, but _Lucius Malfoy_ _…?_

 

Hermione groaned, both in despair and frustration at having been left hanging. She really was going to have to speak to George Weasley about extending the thirty minute limit on the daydreams. After all, it wasn’t the first time she had been brought so close to the point of release, only to be dumped back into the blank, indifferent arms of reality.

 

Blaming her overactive subconscious for presenting such a bizarre scenario, she dragged herself off the couch and headed to the bedroom, peeping in to see Ron already buried under the sheets, softly snoring. She sighed. Suddenly, even Lucius Malfoy in the room of a sordid little pub seemed more welcoming than the bleak routine presented before her. _Especially if he was going to murmur things to her in that voice of his again_ _…_

 

Hermione blinked and shook her head. It occurred to her that the Patented Daydream Charm might have been corrupted, but on second thoughts, she realised it was a silly thought, as there could be no reason for Lucius to want to be in her dreams.

 

Feeling rather let down and robbed of more than just her release, she gave herself up to reality and slowly went about clambering into bed.

 

 

 

 

‘So it wasn’t even _real?_ ’

 

A weary exhale. ‘Yes.’

 

‘Gods, Hermione, you must’ve felt like a right idiot after that.’

 

‘I did,’ said Hermione, voice rather flat. ‘And I still do.’

 

‘Well, at least it’s over. It’s not like he’s got any dirt on you.’ Ginny lowered her magazine to glance over at Hermione. ‘You haven’t seen either him or the Ferret since then, right?’

 

Hermione didn’t look away from her book. ‘No. There are no more Malfoys in my life.’

 

‘Well, it better stay that way if you’re actually going to marry Ron. I don’t think he’d appreciate them.’

 

‘Who would?’ Hermione said in half-hearted disdain. ‘I’m just glad it was nothing more than a dream and everything’s fine.’

 

‘Was it a very good dream?’ Ginny asked, somewhat slyly. Hermione looked up at her blankly as they sat in the back garden of the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow.

 

‘I guess so …?’

 

‘Mm … I bet Oliver’s pretty good in real life as well.’

 

‘Oliver?’ Hermione asked with a frown, before she remembered. ‘Oh, yes. Oliver.’

 

Ginny’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Did you daydream about someone else?’

 

‘Um …’

 

‘It wasn’t McLaggen, was it?’

 

‘What? No. Definitely not.’ Hermione couldn’t quite hold back an expression of revulsion. ‘There’s absolutely no way I’d ever dream about him, unless it was a nightmare. I think he already fills the criteria pretty well in waking life, though.’

 

‘But it was someone else.’

 

Hermione cursed herself for not being able to lie well. ‘Er, no. There wasn’t anyone else, or any other dreams. Just that one of Oliver Wood, which I probably wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t been really drunk.’

 

‘It’s weird Malfoy didn’t … well, _do_ anything when you were drunk in a room.’ An uncomfortable expression settled briefly on Ginny’s shapely face. ‘I would’ve thought he might’ve had some kind of, you know, “dark” designs to carry out on you.’

 

‘He did,’ Hermione replied straight-forwardly before realising that her friend meant something quite different. ‘Oh, I mean, he pretended to blackmail me. That’s pretty dark, isn’t it?’

 

Ginny merely sniffed. ‘It’s petty and trying too hard to be clever, not dark. I mean, I thought he might’ve been planning to –’

 

‘I don’t think he’s interested in Muggle-borns like that.’ Hermione paused. ‘Or women.’

 

‘You mean he’s _gay?_ ’

 

‘What?’ Hermione said, completely taken aback by the notion. ‘No, I just mean that he doesn’t seem to like taking advantage of women. Or that’s at least what he said.’

 

‘Well, if there’s anything you need to learn, Hermione, it’s that you just can’t trust what a Malfoy says. Ever.’

 

‘I know, but I really think he meant it.’ She thought back to Lucius’ words and expression. ‘There was just something about him then that made me believe him.’

 

‘It was probably a Confundus Charm,’ Ginny remarked offhandedly as she turned a page of _Witch Weekly_. ‘Or else he was using a bit of Imperius.’

 

‘He wouldn’t do that. He’s not stupid.’

 

Hermione felt slightly nervous when Ginny looked up at her sharply, her gaze hardened by suspicion. She quickly turned her attention to her book, willing herself to sink back into the words that seemed suddenly quite dry and boring.

 

‘You know, you’re playing a dangerous game, Hermione,’ Ginny warned her in a low tone. ‘Imagining good things about someone who is, to be honest, beyond hope of ever being decent.’

 

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

 

‘And you’re rubbish at lying.’

 

Hermione couldn’t argue with that, so she kept her eyes trained on the words printed across the pages in front of her and said nothing. She just knew that she’d give herself away if she spoke any further.

 

‘If you so much as _dare_ to have weird thoughts about Lucius Malfoy, I’m taking you straight to St. Mungo’s to have your brain examined and you can thank me later.’

 

‘They’re not weird,’ Hermione said, half-protesting, half-pleading.

 

‘So you _are_ actually having weird thoughts about him?’

 

‘No! Well, not weird ones, whatever that means.’

 

‘It means you’re thinking about him in a totally unsuitable context; i.e. any context that doesn’t show him for what he is – a money-hungry psycho with major issues.’

 

‘He loves his son,’ Hermione offered as a kind of argument, though Ginny remained unimpressed.

 

‘Dragons love their eggs,’ the redhead countered brusquely, ‘but that doesn’t make them good mothers.’

 

‘Actually, I think you’ll find that dragons are –’

 

‘Don’t get pedantic with me, Hermione Granger!’ Ginny snapped, shutting Hermione up. ‘You’ve got to stop hiding behind all those facts and look at what’s real.’

 

‘What _is_ real?’ Hermione asked, feeling a bit helpless all of a sudden.

 

‘Lucius Malfoy – any Malfoy – is off-limits and bad for your health. You’re not going to have disgusting thoughts about him just because you thought for a moment that he was being nice. He’s not. That’s a pure fact right there, and it’s one that you can and should remember all the time.’

 

‘I don’t know,’ Hermione said, wearily lowering her book into her lap, having realised that her friend’s indignant rage was only half as fierce as the discontentment gnawing at her. ‘I think we’ve all been too quick to judge. I mean, look at Draco; he was such a … prat back at school, but he’s fine now. There’s nothing to say that Lucius Malfoy, or anyone else, couldn’t do the same.’

 

‘But he’s part of a bunch of bigoted morons who just can’t get it through their thick skulls that they’re no better than anyone else because of their “pure” blood. And the only reason why Ferret doesn’t buy into all that anymore is because he’s part of _our_ generation; he probably figured out that the world really doesn’t work like that.’

 

‘Then you’re saying that Lucius Malfoy simply doesn’t know any better.’

 

Ginny pursed her lips. ‘I guess. Although I doubt he’d change even if he did.’

 

‘But don’t you see how damaging that is, Ginny?’ Hermione said, filled with the same kind of fire that she had felt when taking on the case of house-elf slavery back in her schooldays. ‘You’re judging in the same way that people like the Malfoys judge everyone; your opinions are all based on prejudice.’

 

Ginny stared hard at her, which unnerved Hermione a little, but she firmly stood her ground, having realised that it was the issue of prejudice that she really wanted to be thinking about. The other girl seemed determined to stick to her views, which was understandable, given how the Weasleys had always suffered for daring to attempt a little equality, but Hermione could see that the reciprocated spite wasn’t doing anything to fix the situation.

 

‘Think of it as saving yourself the effort of hating someone without even knowing them,’ Hermione said more gently, seeing the bitter expression on her friend’s face. ‘Hatred only drains you; I suppose that’s why there’s love and forgiveness. They fill you up.’

 

‘But he gave me that diary,’ Ginny murmured, looked pained for a moment. ‘What kind of … monster does that to a kid? I almost died. But what’s worse than that, I was betrayed by someone who I thought was a friend.’ She paused and winced. ‘I really believed in Tom.’

 

Hermione bit her lip, never having heard Ginny speak fully on the matter. She waited on tenterhooks as the younger witch bit her lip and stared ahead of her with a pained frown.

 

‘I think the betrayal hurt more than anything,’ the younger witch admitted at length. ‘I never felt so abandoned and ashamed in my whole life.’

 

Knowing it would not be rebuffed, Hermione reached out with a hand to touch Ginny’s limp one and grasp it firmly, warmly. She smiled sympathetically when Ginny squeezed back and attempted a watery smile.

 

‘I guess that’s why I hate Lucius Malfoy. I always wanted him to know just how shit I felt, and all because of him and his stupid plan to ruin Dad.’

 

‘Don’t worry, I think Voldemort hurt him just as much as he hurt you. Remember how he looked after the battle?’

 

Ginny frowned and shook her head slightly. ‘I don’t remember. Scared, wasn’t it?’

 

‘Mm. And it can’t have been an easy time in Azkaban either. I’m sure he’s learnt a thing or two about life since then.’

 

‘He’d better have,’ Ginny said threateningly. ‘Otherwise, I’m going to have to teach him a lesson myself.’

 

Hermione simply smiled, glad to have her friend back.

 

 

 

 

Two more weeks, and it felt as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened in Hermione’s life. She was in a supposedly stable relationship with an affectionate boyfriend, her work was receiving praise from the relevant quarters and no one had noticed that a couple of prophecy records in the Department of Mysteries had been smashed. Life was just great.

 

Hermione exhaled impatiently and tapped her foot as she waited for the lift to ascend, feeling unusually restless and that she was lacking something. Worried that analysing it would lead to paths less tread and potentially dubious, she simply assumed her disquiet came from having finished a large workload for the week and having practically nothing to do for the rest of the day.

 

The lift pinged open and she forced out a smile as yet another couple of wizards strolled in, the ease with which they talked and smiled and laughed irking her somewhat. She was convinced that she should have been as light-hearted and happy as them since everything appeared to be just the way she wanted it. One of the wizards snorted just as she finished that thought, and she glanced at him questioningly before realising that he was sharing a joke with his friend.

 

Her patience wore thin as the lift stopped once again, opening to admit several more Ministry workers into the limited space. The air grew slightly hotter and smiles tightened. Hermione stepped back to give the newcomers more space and blinked upon finding herself almost toe to toe with Draco Malfoy.

 

He barely gave any sign of greeting, his face bearing a veil of tiredness.

 

‘Granger,’ he said in a barely audible murmur.

 

‘Hello, Draco,’ Hermione returned through the corner of her mouth, conscious of drawing her fellow passengers’ attention as an awkward, stifling silence bulged over them. Instead, she tuned her focus and studied Draco as inconspicuously as she could, feeling a mixture of curiosity and concern as she noticed flecks of dishevelment and dreariness in his otherwise sleek, groomed appearance.

 

After what seemed too long a time, they arrived at the floor housing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Hermione, along with Draco and a couple of witches, stepped out into the wide corridor. Draco gave her a quick sideways glance and made to stalk off in the direction of his office, but Hermione stopped him with a light touch to the elbow, surprising them both with the oddly familiar gesture.

 

‘Um, Draco … I just wanted to ask … how you were.’

 

Draco looked at her, slightly suspicious. ‘I’m fine.’ He paused and looked as though he had taken a minor dose of poison as he reluctantly asked, ‘How are things with you?’

 

‘Good,’ Hermione said, both amused and worried that it seemed to pain him to make small talk with her. ‘I mean, everything’s all right, I suppose.’

 

Draco nodded. ‘That’s good.’

 

‘Yes.’

 

They stood stiffly in the deserted hallway, feeling the burden of an awkward silence that engulfed them in a little bubble. From down the corridor, Hermione could hear people talking and the other sounds of work life, but it all seemed rather distant and disjointed. Draco fidgeted slightly, but continued to try and show a toughened exterior.

 

‘How is your father?’ she asked at length, trying not to think about the way her heartbeat quickened a bit.

 

Draco looked surprised, then paused to think. ‘He is … well, I think. He is rather preoccupied with a project concerning Gringotts. They have asked him to take a post there.’

 

‘That must make him over the moon,’ Hermione said wryly, imagining that a bank was the perfect place for someone like Lucius to work at. Perhaps he could even replace the dragon they had kept down there; she thought his money-loving tendency would make him suitably protective of any hoard assigned to him.

 

‘It keeps him distracted,’ Draco replied with a smile that looked slightly bitter. ‘Gives him less time to think about me.’

 

‘Did you get your allowance yet?’

 

Draco nodded, slowly turning and beginning to walk. Hermione joined him, careful to keep at least a foot of space between them.

 

‘I decided I couldn’t wait for the legal complications to be sorted, so I took my mother’s name.’

 

Hermione stared up at him incredulously. ‘You gave up being a Malfoy?’ She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

 

‘No, of course not. I’m just Malfoy-Black for the time being. I’m certain my father won’t let it go on for long, though.’

 

‘And what about Astoria? Are you still going to marry her?’

 

He pursed his lips and frowned. ‘Not here, I shouldn’t think.’

 

‘You mean your father won’t let you?’

 

‘He has no say in the matter,’ Draco replied coolly, although it was obvious to Hermione that Lucius continued to hold the reins, and rather tightly at that. ‘However, I know he doesn’t approve, so I thought it best to get married at my mother’s. She has showed enough acceptance to make up for my father’s lack of support.’

 

‘That doesn’t seem very fair,’ Hermione remarked. ‘You’re basically being forced to elope.’

 

‘Life’s not fair, Granger,’ he told her with a slight sneer, although Hermione didn’t think it was really directed at her. ‘I don’t want to have my wedding at some stranger’s house, but if it means I get to marry Astoria, then it is hardly an obstacle.’

 

Hermione looked up at him again, feeling her throat constrict slightly. The determination which set Draco’s face and with which he loved Astoria Greengrass was unexpectedly moving. That it was delivered in cool, stiff words was neither here nor there; she could tell he loved his fiancée unreservedly and it made her question her own love and impending marriage. What she had with Ron seemed to pale in comparison to Draco’s adoration of Astoria, his love clearly so great that it could not be kept under his fastidious control and simply had to be expressed.

 

‘You should try your father again,’ she suggested as they turned a corner and his office came into sight. ‘He’s probably just worried about losing you, but maybe if you could convince him that marrying Astoria won’t mean leaving him behind …’

 

‘It’s no use,’ Draco said flatly. ‘I have tried explaining things in every way imaginable, but he refuses to listen. And you should know, my father was never a very good listener to begin with.’

 

‘No, I guess not,’ Hermione conceded as they came to stand outside the door of his office. She glanced up at the golden nameplate and noticed that it had been altered, now reading _Draco U. Malfoy-Black._

 

_D.U.M.B._

 

She squashed a smirk and turned her attention back to Draco, who was frowning again as he studied the colour of his trousers. Catching his dejected look, she felt pity stir within her and quite suddenly, she had an idea.

 

‘Draco, you would really like to be married at your manor, wouldn’t you?’

 

He quickly straightened up. ‘Of course.’

 

‘And are you coming to the Order Commemoration Ball?’

 

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

 

‘Great. Make sure you bring your father along at whatever cost and don’t elope before then. It’s less than a fortnight from now, so I think you can wait just a bit longer.’

 

Draco arched an eyebrow. ‘Why do you want me to bring my father?’

 

‘Let’s just say that I would like a few words with him about the imaginary hell he made me go through. Get some closure on it, so to speak.’ She looked at him confidently when he continued to appear doubtful. ‘You’ll be benefiting from this, too, so don’t think it’s all for me.’

 

‘Not that I trust you, Granger, but I should warn you that even if I tried, there is no guarantee that my father would attend. It is hardly the kind of social circle that he is used to moving around in, and it’s not like he has an interest in Dumbledore’s Order.’

 

‘True, but wasn’t he friends with Professor Snape?’ She was satisfied when Draco reluctantly gave a nod. ‘Well, then, you could just tell him to attend for his sake. After all, that’s what good friends do; they stick up for each other, regardless of time and place.’

 

‘You mean you want me to guilt-trip my father?’

 

‘Yes, if that’s what it takes. It’s hardly a crime. Plus, extremely good things will come of it that will make up for any bad things you feel.’

 

‘You know, for someone so bloody righteous and good, you seem rather accustomed to taking on double standards when it’s convenient.’

 

Hermione grew flushed and did feel a bit guilty, but she was sure the greater picture could afford a smidgeon of blurring lines and ethics this one time. Luckily, Draco pursued the point no further, clearly too wrapped up in his own thoughts and problems to bother with taunting her. It was possibly the only upside of having him wallowing in misery, as a forlorn Draco had no time to indulge his snide sense of humour.

 

‘Maybe I don’t always play fair, but I don’t really think this situation with your father calls for it.’ She looked at him with a small smile. ‘And besides, I’m only human.’

 

Draco merely shook his head and looked disdainful as he took the hand she offered him and shook it firmly.

 

 

 

 

Hermione looked dolefully at her reflection in the mirror, seeing a sullen young woman in a crimson satin dress that suddenly seemed to be too bold for her paled complexion. Her hair, which had been in rich curls after hours of effort, was now rising up in its usual frizz and eluding all the clips she had carefully set in place. Mascara had smudged in the corner of one eye.

 

‘Well, that’s what you get if you decide to have a lover’s argument in the middle of getting ready,’ the full-length mirror told her haughtily. ‘You should have either gotten rid of him a long time ago, or done it after the ball. Now you’re going to have to start all over again.’

 

‘I don’t think I want to go anymore,’ Hermione said as she slowly began pulling pins out of her hair. ‘I can’t bear the thought of having to see him there after what we said.’

 

‘Shouted, I think, would be a more accurate description of your verbal exchange,’ the mirror said primly. ‘And you simply must go, or else he will think you a coward.’

 

‘I really don’t care.’ She slowly began getting undressed, much to the mirror’s indignation.

 

‘Look here, young lady, you _are_ going to that ball, is that clear? You owe it to yourself to prove that you are indeed better off without him.’

 

Hermione stopped undressing and sat down on her bed, feeling quite lost and hopeless for a moment. The night had definitely not started well, and her fight with Ron left her in too low spirits to want to join in any kind of celebrations. It occurred to her that mourning clothes would be better suited for that moment, as she had just seen the stressful end of a three-year relationship, and she was sure the break-up this time was permanent.

 

‘A tie.’ She flopped back onto the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. ‘I can’t believe we broke up because of a tie.’

 

‘A wonky tie or a sordid affair; there’s no difference when it comes to a fight,’ the mirror said superciliously. ‘Any excuse will do if there is enough spite involved.’

 

‘I guess it was a long time coming,’ Hermione admitted, thinking back to Ron’s look of shock when she had blurted out a long list of his faults that had been grinding away at her tolerance for months. She felt ashamed at having lost it during what she had hoped would be a mature, civilised discussion, but she had underestimated the force of the emotions that had burst out of their usual confines in her heart. She could only wish that she had been a little more understanding and detached.

 

Trying to imagine cool composure led her to think of Draco, and she wondered whether he had managed to convince his father to come to the ball. She thought that Lucius would have a hard time weighing his options, recognising the opportunity to schmooze his way back into society, while at the same time acknowledging that he would be trying to suck up to those he despised the most.

 

Hermione sat up and stared hard at the mirror, thinking of the injustices being scattered about the world and steeling herself to address the ones that were in her power to fix. The love between her and Ron might not have survived, but it was no reason to let the love of others be crushed when it could be saved. And she knew she could save Draco’s; it was only a matter of a little willpower and cunning.

 

‘I’ll go,’ she said out loud, ‘but not for myself.’

 

‘Well, that’s better than not going at all,’ the mirror reasoned. ‘Just make sure you look absolutely stunning; we want you to take everyone’s breath away, especially that man of yours. It’s the only way to get him back.’

 

‘Oh, I don’t want Ron back,’ Hermione said with more nonchalance than she actually felt. ‘We’re quite over, and maybe have been for a while now.’

 

Had the mirror had eyebrows, it would have raised them. ‘Is there somebody else that you are seeking to impress, then?’

 

‘What? No. No, not at all.’ Hermione turned away and rummaged around for her bottle of Sleekeazy’s Super-Strength Hair Potion. ‘But I do owe it to someone else to turn up. I think I owe them quite a lot, actually, seeing as they’re the one that showed me what love is and what it’s not.’

 

‘That sounds rather romantic,’ the mirror said, sounding oddly wistful. Hermione straightened up, bottle in hand, and considered Draco for a moment.

 

‘Yes, I suppose it does. Which is odd, given where it’s coming from.’

 

‘Life is full of mysteries, the least of all which is love,’ the mirror said wisely, though Hermione couldn’t help but wonder how on earth a mirror would know anything about life or love. ‘You have only to look at yourself to realise how strange it all is; after all, you were going to marry _that_ young man!’

 

‘What’s so strange about that?’ Hermione asked with a frown, not liking it when the mirror tittered and gave off a discernibly pitying air, though how it managed to do so when it was only a sheet of glass was another question entirely.

 

‘You can hardly say the two of you were well-matched,’ the mirror scoffed. ‘Perhaps you thought the differences were able to be breached with the presence of love, but you were never going to be equals in anything.’

 

‘Well, no, I wouldn’t say that …’ Hermione argued vaguely as she began massaging the taming potion into her hair.

 

‘Of course you will deny it at this stage, otherwise it would feel like you’ve wasted all that time on a doomed relationship. The truth, however, remains to be believed. Surely you can see that you were never going to be fully satisfied with him?’

 

‘I don’t think it’s possible to be fully satisfied with anyone. Nobody’s perfect.’

 

‘Yes, but you would have been less happy with him than with others,’ the mirror pressed on, surprisingly determined to make its point. ‘You articulated it rather well yourself with that list of yours. What was it? _You don’t respect my work or my hobbies, you spend far too much time caring about Quidditch,_ _you blow everything out of proportion when I’m just being friendly to other people –_ ’

 

‘Yes, all right, that’s enough,’ Hermione cut in briskly, not liking how accurately the mirror was mimicking the shrill tone she had used to upbraid Ron. ‘Fine. So we probably never would have been the happiest we could be if we’d stayed together, but that’s been sorted now, hasn’t it?’

 

‘Let us hope so,’ the mirror said, haughty again. ‘I don’t want to see any man who is unworthy crossing over the threshold to this home again. He will have to go through _me_ first if he wants anything from you.’

 

Hermione merely rolled her eyes and continued to fix herself up again, both touched and exasperated by the mirror’s protective personality. Glancing at the small clock on her dresser, she realised that she was running a little late and hurried herself along. She had never been one to buy into the idea of coming ‘fashionably late’, which she interpreted as being the name people gave to their laziness or their arrogance.

 

‘You look splendid,’ the mirror crowed approvingly.

 

‘Do you really think so?’ Hermione asked, genuinely uncertain even though she thought and hoped she looked nice.

 

‘Absolutely. You will make heads turn, my dear, though you really ought to hurry up and go, or else you’ll miss the entire thing.’

 

Hermione added the finishing touches to her dress and hair before snatching up a handsome black silk clutch that matched her shoes and clattering out into the living room. She ran over to the fireplace, only to remember a vial of potion that was vital to the evening and hurrying back into the bedroom to retrieve it from a secret box under the wardrobe. The mirror clucked and gave the impression that it would have shaken its head, had it had one.

 

Back in the living room, a quick wave of Hermione’s wand had a small fire flaring up in the grate, the flames turning green when she threw in a handful of Floo powder. She called out her destination clearly before stepping in, feeling herself pulled forwards into a whirl of indistinguishable time and place.

 

What seemed several seconds later, she was gently shoved out of a fireplace in the Ministry’s Atrium, which was filled with witches and wizards in vibrant dress chatting and laughing, a band playing a light waltz, and floating trays of canapés and champagne. In the middle of it all stood the Fountain of the Order, the fallen heroes watching over the lively gathering with bright, golden expressions. Even Snape looked marginally more cheerful than usual.

 

Hermione had barely straightened up and begun dusting herself of any ash when Ginny appeared at her side, looking radiant as usual in an elegant dress of green silk that perfectly outlined her slender frame. Her face, however, wore an expression that went against the pleasing image she made.

 

‘Where have you _been_ , Hermione?’ she asked quickly and quietly with a scowl. ‘Ron’s starting to get drunk and it’s embarrassing.’

 

‘Well, that’s hardly my concern now,’ Hermione replied firmly and steadily, though she trembled a little under the hard façade. ‘We broke up just under an hour ago.’

 

Ginny stared at her, her hand slipping slightly on her glass. ‘You did? You mean you finally, finally did?’

 

Hermione frowned at her friend. ‘Should you be sounding that happy, Ginny?’

 

‘Oh, I’m not happy,’ Ginny said, regaining her casual briskness. ‘I’m bloody relieved! You finally had the guts to face the music and shut it down!’

 

‘Um, yes, something like that.’ Hermione accepted with a nod of thanks when Ginny passed her a fresh flute of champagne from a tray that floated by.

 

‘What did Ron say when you dumped him?’

 

‘Actually, I think it was more of a mutual decision …’

 

‘Which is why he’s trying to drown himself in champagne and humiliate my entire family with his dancing,’ Ginny said, pursing her lips as she gazed over the crowd with a glaring look. Hermione followed her line of sight and found the few heads of distinct red hair gathered down one end of the vast hall, the above-average height of the Weasleys making them even easier to pick out.

 

‘Bill’s trying to get him to calm down, but the silly idiot won’t listen,’ Ginny explained scornfully before adding, ‘You look gorgeous, by the way.’

 

Hermione murmured her thanks and agreed when the younger girl suggested that they join their usual group of friends who were currently standing in the shadow of the fountain. Harry waved at them and grinned as they threaded their way through the loose knots of witches and wizards talking animatedly with each other. He was standing with Neville, Luna and a tall, lanky young man with a mop of brown hair that flopped sideways over his forehead. The stranger was holding hands with Luna, who was wearing her famous radish earrings with a bright pink dress that clashed wildly with her companion’s bold red robes.

 

The guilt and gloom Hermione had felt at ending her relationship with Ron was washed away by the warmth and charm of her friends as they welcomed her with hugs and laughs, dispelling all unease and grief with their affection. The young man holding hands with Luna introduced himself as Rolf Scamander, grandson of the great naturalist Newt Scamander. He and Luna were off to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack in a week’s time. Hermione simply smiled politely and nodded, having learnt to keep her opinions on chasing fictional creatures to herself.

 

After a bit of vacillation, she decided to let Ginny break the news about her and Ron and slipped away while Harry was dropping his jaw and Neville’s eyes were becoming comparable in size to dishware. It was enough that she had lived through it once; she didn’t fancy having to go through it all again as well as answer the dozens of questions her friends were bound to ask. 

 

Her hand slipped into her clutch as she ambled through the people all celebrating the role the Order of the Phoenix had played in the war. The cool glass of the little vial inside grazed against her fingers and Hermione removed her hand, satisfied that everything except one thing was in place.

 

That one thing was surprisingly hard to locate, given its usual desire to be in the limelight, but its striking features made it a little easier to spot.

 

Lucius Malfoy stood alongside his son as Kingsley conversed with them, several solemn-looking wizards also joining in every now and then. Hermione recognised them to be members of the Wizengamot, and for a moment was worried that the Malfoys had been discovered for their recent jaunt down to the Mysteries, but decided that wasn’t the case when she saw Kingsley smile and give Lucius a nod of approval.

 

‘Well, it is good to have you here with us, Lucius,’ the Minister was saying in his deep voice as Hermione reached them. ‘I hope to see more of you in the future.’

 

Lucius inclined his head and smiled. ‘Of course, Minister.’

 

Hermione waited a few seconds to let Kingsley and the Wizengamot wizards drift off, not wanting to make false explanations on how she knew the Malfoys well enough to engage them in polite conversation. Draco, however, had spotted her earlier, and after an appraising look up and down, waited for her impatiently.

 

‘What a load of nonsense,’ Lucius Malfoy muttered to his son as he gazed after the Minister. ‘Shacklebolt knows perfectly well that I won’t be around here for much longer, yet he has to rub in his generosity as though we didn’t suffer from it enough.’

 

‘Er, Father …’

 

Lucius turned his head around at Draco’s slight nudge and his grey eyes passed over Hermione without a glimmer. Then they snapped back to her and stared. None of his pale, pointed features seemed to move, but Hermione felt them shift nevertheless and suddenly felt quite self-conscious, wondering whether she was showing too much skin.

 

‘Ah, Miss Granger,’ Lucius said after a short pause, his drawling voice sounding decidedly normal, although his expression continued to be unusually frozen. ‘What a … delightful surprise.’

 

‘Hello, Mr Malfoy. Draco.’

 

Draco nodded and shot a meaningful look at her. Hermione simply raised an eyebrow and directed her attention back to Lucius Malfoy, noticing that he held a glass of champagne in one ring-laden hand.

 

‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

 

‘I would’ve been rather insulted if you had,’ Lucius replied with a slight sneer. ‘The kind of people filling up this place is rather … different to my usual standards.’ He glanced pointedly to the cleared space before the band, where Ron was busy showing off his sloppy, drunken dance moves. Hermione bit her lip and cringed.

 

‘You must be ever so glad to know that you are marrying _that_.’

 

‘Actually, Ron and I are just friends,’ Hermione replied, hating how she felt embarrassed even admitting that, given his current behaviour. ‘We broke up today, in fact.’

 

‘Well, then, I do believe congratulations are in order,’ Lucius said with a slight smirk before raising his glass to her and taking a small sip. He glanced sideways at his son, and Draco reluctantly raised his own glass and drank. ‘You, Miss Granger, have managed to escape what would have been a most regrettable existence. After all, it is common knowledge that marriage is essentially the signing over of one’s life to another party who will undoubtedly not know how to take care of it.’

 

‘Wise words as always, Mr Malfoy. I’m surprised the Minister hasn’t offered you a job as an advisor.’

 

Lucius didn’t appear to mind her sarcasm, his self-satisfied smile remaining curled on his lips. ‘On the contrary, such a position was offered to me and I would have accepted, were it not for the fact that it would have hindered my son’s career.’

 

Draco looked surprised, and then faintly pleased. Next to him, Lucius coolly sipped at his champagne and pretended nothing genuinely sentimental could ever pass through his lips.

 

‘As it is, I have taken a post with Gringotts Bank instead,’ Lucius continued, idly eyeing the people milling about before him, ‘and I shan’t be in the country much longer, so you will no longer have to fear any further attempts at deception on my part, Miss Granger.’

 

‘You’re … leaving?’

 

He gave her an odd look. ‘That is indeed what I said.’

 

‘Where to?’

 

‘Egypt.’ His smile hardened. ‘Cairo, to be precise. Gringotts has a branch there that has work for me.’

 

Hermione stared at him without realising it, being jolted back to her senses when he cleared his throat. She felt her hands become a little clammy as she fiddled with the clasp of her clutch, her nerves starting to fray the more she grew aware of it.

 

‘In that case, Mr Malfoy, I, er, have something I need to talk to you about.’

 

One blond eyebrow arched high as Lucius looked at her. ‘About what, might I enquire?’

 

‘About the little thing in the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago.’

 

‘I have no idea what on earth you are speaking of,’ Lucius replied smoothly, causing Hermione to look at him exasperatedly before gesturing to the younger Malfoy for his intervention.

 

‘I think you should listen to what Granger’s got to say, Father,’ Draco said grudgingly. ‘It’s probably quite important.’

 

Lucius Malfoy appeared to mull it over in an offhanded manner, although Hermione imagined that he was paying it serious attention beneath his affected demeanour. _And what is he like beneath his robes?_ she wondered before giving a cough and slamming down censors on her thoughts.

 

‘I shall humour you just this once, Miss Granger,’ the object of her curiosity drawled, making her blush slightly with the uncomfortable intensity of his pale-eyed gaze. ‘Now, what is it that you wished to say?’

 

Hermione glanced around at the scores of people filling up the Atrium. ‘We should find somewhere private first. I wouldn’t be surprised if that Skeeter woman was here, listening in on our conversations.’

 

‘Very well,’ Lucius conceded haughtily as he gestured for her to lead. Draco watched them warily as they made their way towards the far end of the hall where the lifts stood, vacant. Hermione glanced back and made sure the elder Malfoy was following with a glass in his hand. She tipped her clutch and heard the faintest sound of liquid as the vial inside rolled about. Her confidence rose.

 

‘I think my office will do,’ she said stiffly as they walked into an empty lift, feeling relieved that hardly anyone seemed to be paying them any attention. She didn’t want anyone thinking the wrong thing about her and Lucius Malfoy, as unbelievable as it would be.

 

The lift doors closed with a quiet clang and all the noise of the celebration was cut out. Hermione did her best to bear the awkwardness and held her head higher than she was used to, hoping to give the impression that she could and would defy both Mr Malfoy and the bad things he stood for. Lucius, for his part, appeared too sure of himself to be affected by her presence as he gazed at the lift doors through slightly lowered lids while his glass rested between his long fingers.

 

The same long fingers that had, in her mind, touched her so perfectly …

 

Warmth suddenly bloomed in her depths, and Hermione felt her cheeks begin to burn, her mind unable to keep out recollections of the fantasy she had had immediately after her adventure with the two Malfoys. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had seen her buy several more of the Daydream Charms in the effort to wash out the disturbing dream with others featuring different men, but she had never quite managed to think of someone new and titillating enough to replace the tall, pale blond.

 

Worried that the wizard sharing the lift with her would notice her discomfort, she turned her face away slightly to try and conceal how flushed she surely looked. Needing something to do, she quickly took a sip of her own champagne. Lucius didn’t seem to notice that she was even there.

 

Six floors and what seemed an eternity of uncomfortable silence later, they arrived at the floor for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Hermione led the way reluctantly, concerned that he might take the opportunity to hex her in the back, and half-hoping he would, as it would give her a reason to renew her dislike for him.

 

It did come as a relief, however, when she found herself at the door to her office in one piece, and she withdrew her wand to undo the wards and other security enchantments that she had placed on the room. Having opened the door, she turned around to look at Lucius, feeling uneasy by the way his eyes had already been fixed on her.

 

‘If you’d like to come in …’

 

His silence unnerved her far more than his words, and Hermione tried to remember that she was the one in charge, the one holding the power in their little situation. She watched closely as he sauntered into her territory, his seeming arrogance both irritating and oddly admirable in light of the fact that he really didn’t have the upper hand.

 

‘So, Miss Granger …’ he drawled as he looked around in languid appraisal, ‘what was it that you wished to talk about?’

 

Hermione swallowed and had to concentrate on hiding her unravelling nerves as she closed the door behind her. Ten seconds, and the man before her already looked like he owned the place as he stood in front of her desk, looking at her with his head tilted back slightly. She forced herself to walk towards him, and then past him as she went around to the other side of the desk and set her glass down on it.

 

‘I have a few questions that I’d like to ask,’ she said, meeting his gaze while she carefully opened her clutch under the table so that he couldn’t see it. Her hand closed around the vial and slowly loosened the cork lid. 

 

Lucius wore a proud look as he answered. ‘I can’t say that I shall answer truthfully or even at all, but I shall allow you to waste my time just this once. I suppose you have earned it.’

 

‘I’d appreciate that,’ Hermione said, forcing out a smile and hoping he hadn’t heard the slight _pop_ that the cork had made. ‘Although I’d appreciate it even more if you tried to answer truthfully.’ As casually as she could, she reached for her glass and brought it under the table to pour a few drops of the vial’s contents into the remaining champagne. Lucius didn’t notice, his attention having been drawn to the currently empty portrait on the far wall.

 

To her dismay, Hermione realised that he was still holding his glass and she tried to think of a believable excuse that would make him put it down, but no ideas seemed to come. Trusting herself to think of something sooner or later, she came back around the desk to stand nearer to him, though a good two feet of space remained between them.

 

‘Did you speak to Skeeter at all before you sent me the letter threatening blackmail?’

 

‘I had no reason to, seeing as I had nothing to actually offer her.’

 

‘But you had false evidence,’ Hermione pointed out. ‘And surely the people at the Leering Lion would have seen me doing … well, drunken things. Skeeter wouldn’t have needed much else to piece a story together. Merlin knows she would probably do it even without evidence of any kind.’

 

‘You have history with the hag, do you?’

 

Hermione thought she might like the wizard a tiny bit better because he agreed on Rita Skeeter being a hag. She did notice that he hadn’t answered her question, but it didn’t surprise her. She doubted that he would ever speak the truth of his own volition. Instead, she focused on coming up with an idea to disarm him of his glass while continuing her pretence of interrogating him.

 

‘I suppose we do have history. I’m the one who notified the Ministry of her being an illegal Animagus.’

 

Lucius looked mildly surprised. ‘Ah, so it was you. Yes, I do remember the fuss made over that.’

 

‘And I blackmailed her before I did it,’ Hermione admitted somewhat sheepishly, not quite knowing why she was divulging such information to him. It was like handing a wand to a prisoner; it wasn’t difficult to imagine that Lucius Malfoy would ruin her as soon as she presented him with the chance.

 

‘Did you now? How very interesting …’

 

Hermione smiled weakly, when an idea flickered up in her mind. Using her wand which she was holding concealed behind her forearm, she concentrated on gradually increasing the temperature in the room. Lucius took another sip of champagne and frowned. His free hand came up to slightly loosen his sleek, silver cravat. Tendons grew taut for a moment as he stretched his neck in the effort to get more air under the collar of his rich, green robes.

 

When he glanced back down at her, Hermione had to work hard to wear a blank expression, and she was relieved when he looked away again towards the empty portrait where Tonks sometimes lounged. She felt her heart quicken and had to hold back her excitement as he set down his glass, which still had two fingers of bubbly left in it, on the desk behind them and adjusted his cuffs.

 

‘I think I just saw Tonks in the portrait.’

 

As she expected, Lucius’ gaze was immediately drawn back to the picture, and Hermione seized the opportunity to quickly switch their glasses.

 

‘She must’ve realised it was you and not Draco, otherwise she might’ve stayed.’

 

‘Are you implying that she is familiar with my son?’ He picked up the glass that he assumed to be his.

 

‘Yes, or that’s how it seems, anyway,’ Hermione replied, trying not to watch too closely as he leisurely raised the glass to his lips and drank. ‘They almost seem to be friends.’

 

‘That is ridiculous,’ Lucius scoffed, licking his upper lip that was a little moist from the champagne. Hermione felt herself grow rather flushed. She stopped the Warming Charm and tucked her wand away in the hidden pocket of her dress. 

 

‘My son has no reason to take any notice of her,’ Lucius continued, placing his glass back on the desk and casually taking off his heavy outer robes. ‘Is this room always so warm?’

 

‘Um, is it warm right now?’

 

Lucius glanced at her with an arched look. ‘I expect you should know, Miss Granger, since you look rather flushed.’

 

‘I must be too used to it,’ Hermione said, a little too quickly. She hoped the wizard didn’t notice. ‘But getting back to the questions …’

 

‘Ah, yes. Your precious questions.’

 

‘Would you have ever hurt Draco in revenge for what he did to you?’

 

‘Of course not. I wouldn’t ever dream of harming him. He is my son, and I love him.’ He frowned, appearing perplexed by his own blunt declaration.

 

‘Well, that’s comforting to know,’ Hermione said, striving to be nonchalant as she watched him with a pounding heart. ‘And would you have let me get hurt if it had meant getting to your prophecy more easily?’

 

‘I can’t imagine a situation where I would be that foolish. As I have already told you, the Minister –’

 

‘– Would suspect you first. Yes, I can believe that.’ She began to slowly pace, aware that Lucius’ narrowed eyes were tracking her every movement. ‘So you wouldn’t have ever dared to really blackmail me?’

 

‘Not under the current circumstances, no.’

 

‘That’s good. Do you still believe that pure-bloods are better than everyone else?’

 

‘Yes.’ A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw as outrage began clouding his eyes, and it was as though he was angry at his own lack of tact and self-control.

 

‘So you must still hate me.’

 

‘I cannot say.’

 

Hermione paused where she was at the other end of the room and stared at him. Lucius stared back, his mouth tight with rage, although it was impossible to tell who it was directed at. Knowing that he would catch onto her scheme very shortly, she concentrated on getting as much out of him while she could, making sure she kept her questioning as informal as she could. She guessed that the moment he felt it to be an interrogation would be the moment he understood what was going on.

 

‘Do you see me as an equal?’

 

‘Certainly not.’

 

‘Then would you continue with your pure-blood campaign now if you had the chance?’

 

‘I shouldn’t think so. It is enough to know that I am of superior lineage; I can’t imagine pursuing it in the way of the Dark Lord will yield good results, particularly now.’

 

‘I guess that’s better than wanting to keep up your role as a Death Eater,’ Hermione conceded, though she wasn’t particularly pleased. ‘How did you know about the prophecy?’

 

‘I was present at the time it was given.’

 

Hermione frowned. ‘That means you must’ve been at Madame Pampalome’s … What were you doing there?’

 

‘I was having my palm read,’ Lucius answered with the greatest reluctance, his speech more clipped than usual. Hermione gaped at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

 

‘You – you went for a _palm-reading?_ ’

 

‘Yes,’ he said tersely.

 

Hermione simply stared at him and tried to get her head around the idea of someone as conceited and proud as Lucius Malfoy dabbling in the foggy subject of Divination. It didn’t fit at all with the mental profile she had created of him over the years, and she was left feeling baffled at who exactly the man standing across the room from her was.

 

She noticed that his face looked thinner and coarser than ever before, and the smug, swaggering attitude had vanished as quickly as a shadow being melted away by the light. It seemed that he hadn’t quite realised how honest he was being, the feeling being so unfamiliar to him, yet he also seemed to be … relieved at making such private confessions.

 

‘Have you been to get your palm read before?’ she asked when she finally had her mind in relative working order again.

 

‘Indeed. I have been in the habit of seeking out her advice, and I dare say I’m her greatest client.’

 

‘So _you’re_ the reason why she keeps coming back to Knockturn Alley,’ Hermione said in understanding that quickly morphed into annoyance. ‘Our department’s wasted a lot of time trying to get her to take her business somewhere else. She’s known to trade in Dark objects as well, and that’s obviously illegal. We’re always just wondering where she gets the items from. They’re hardly common …’

 

Lucius Malfoy was fiddling with his cuffs, looking irritated by his own lack of control. Hermione glanced at his expression and then at his fidgeting hands, and realised that the little addition she had made to his drink was compelling him to not only speak the truth, but act it as well.

 

‘Mr Malfoy, did you give Madame Pampalome objects with Dark magical properties?’

 

He looked like he was trying to say one thing, but it instead came out as: ‘Yes.’

 

‘So you’ve been at least partially involved in continuing the black market trade in the country.’

 

‘One could say that, yes.’

 

‘Perfect.’

 

Lucius blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘This is perfect,’ Hermione repeated with a rising sense of triumph. ‘Your answers have given me everything I need, Mr Malfoy.’

 

‘Everything you need for what, exactly?’

 

‘Everything I need to blackmail you,’ she replied sweetly. ‘Relying on Divination and dealing in Dark objects are hardly things you wish to be known for, is it? I’m sure the Minister and the Wizengamot would have something to say on the matter, not to mention that awful harpy Rita Skeeter …’

 

For a moment, the elder Malfoy looked surprised. Then, he was whirling around to pick up his glass of champagne and bring it to his nose to sniff it before raising it to the light and examining it.

 

‘You gave me Veritaserum,’ he said slowly, frowning as he eyed the champagne for a second longer before snapping his gaze to hers. ‘You had the _nerve_ to give me Veritaserum and expect to get away with it.’

 

‘I thought you might need a bit of help answering my questions truthfully,’ Hermione said more calmly than she felt. She slipped her hand into her hidden pocket and curled her fingers around her wand. ‘I think it’s actually done you a lot of good to get all that off your chest …’

 

‘You wretched little witch!’ he snarled, wand suddenly in hand and pointing at her. ‘You give me this abominable insolence after I went to the trouble of ensuring that no harm came to you! I should have simply let Wood do the job and have you create a real scandal to be ruined by!’

 

‘Mr Malfoy, please, I haven’t finished yet, and you really need to hear this part.’ Hermione had withdrawn her own wand and watched the wizard warily for signs of his icy anger getting out of control. ‘I can promise you that I will never tell anyone of your dubious behaviour, if you will agree to two simple terms.’

 

Lucius glared at her, but now seemed more wary than enraged. ‘And just what are these two conditions?’

 

‘Firstly, you swear not to be involved in illegal activities again.’ She fixed him with a pointed look. ‘And secondly, you support Draco in his choice of bride and let them marry at your manor.’

 

‘You are being ridiculous,’ he said with a sneer. ‘What reason could you possibly have for taking the side of my son on the subject of his future wife?’

 

‘I think Draco deserves to be happy.’

 

Lucius continued to sneer, but it looked less malicious now. ‘You know nothing about the matter.’

 

‘I know enough to see that you will make your prophecy come true if you deny him this,’ Hermione countered resolutely. ‘You will lose him, and you might never get him back. He might overthrow you somehow because he resents you more than he loves you. You don’t want that, do you?’

 

‘No, I do not,’ Lucius said, not seeming to mind how quickly that truth left his lips. ‘I can’t afford to lose him, but I know I shall if he marries that Greengrass girl. He loves her unlike anything I have ever seen.’

 

‘Are you jealous of her?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘And you’re afraid he’ll desert you like you wife did?’

 

Lucius clenched his jaw and fought not to speak, but answered in the affirmative regardless of his efforts, and Hermione couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry that she had put him in a situation that must be humiliating for him. It was a wonder that he hadn’t tried to maim or even kill her yet. She was quite certain that he must hate the fact that she, of all people, was the one to witness his moment of weakness.

 

That he admitted to being abandoned made him both pathetic and human, and there was pity mingled with something else as she looked at him.

 

‘If you love Draco as you say you do, then you won’t lose him even when he marries Astoria. And he’s definitely going to marry her, with or without your approval.’ She paused to let her words sink in, noticing his preoccupied look. ‘It’s up to you.’

 

‘Why do you even wish for his marriage or his happiness?’ Lucius asked, suspicious.

 

‘Because … well, seeing him fighting for the right to love and marry who he wanted made me aware of certain things, and I think I might just have saved myself from a lifetime of regret, thanks to him.’

 

‘Ah, you must be referring to your engagement to that idiot boy of Arthur’s.’

 

‘Ron’s not an idiot.’

 

‘Of course he is,’ Lucius Malfoy said impatiently. ‘You would not be denying it if you had been the one to ingest the truth serum.’

 

‘Well, maybe that’s your opinion, but in any case, that’s beside the point,’ Hermione countered a little sharply. ‘I want to know if you will agree to my terms. Otherwise, I’ve got no choice but to report you for what you’ve done.’

 

‘I suppose relieving you of the memories concerning the matter is out of the question?’

 

‘Absolutely.’ She kept her wand trained on him, even when his was slightly lowered. ‘I’ve broken so many rules for you, Mr Malfoy, and this will be the last time.’

 

‘Surely one more time would not hurt?’ He was smiling all of a sudden, and using the same, slithering charm that she had seen him use on countless others before her. Yet for all her disdain for his obvious schmoozing, Hermione had to admit that it was strangely effective and was making her waver in a way that had seemed unthinkable only moments before. It only added to her surprise to know that he could still function in his smooth ways whilst under the influence of Veritaserum.

 

‘Consider it this way, Miss Granger,’ Lucius continued, sheathing his wand and taking a few steps towards her. ‘I have divulged to you things that I have never shared with anyone, not even my former _wife_.’ He gave her a meaningful look. ‘I have quite put myself at your mercy by answering your questions, so is it not only reasonable to ask that you to keep the knowledge gained entirely to yourself? After all, I have spoken them while placing my trust in you …’

 

‘You’ve spoken them because I gave you Veritaserum,’ Hermione snapped, annoyed that she was actually being charmed by his charlatan’s act. She grew uneasy when his false smile gained a predatory edge and he closed the distance between them with a few easy steps.

 

‘Precisely. Which means that everything that I have just said to you now is nothing but the truth.’ He stopped when he was looming over her, the tip of her raised wand only inches away from his chest. ‘It also means that you can believe me when I say that I have not shared with anyone the secrets you imparted on me whilst in an inebriated state.’

 

‘What – what secrets? I don’t have any secrets. You’re bluffing.’

 

‘Well, we shan’t know that unless I share the details of that particular night with you, which I will if you withdraw your intentions to blackmail me.’

 

‘You seem to forget that you don’t have the power in this situation, Mr Malfoy. I’ve only to ask, and you’ll answer truthfully.’

 

‘Yes, that is quite right, but we should also address the fact that you imbued my drink with a serum which, if I’m not much mistaken, has strict regulations on how it is to be used. I highly doubt that personal revenge is a sufficient reason to convince the Wizengamot that your application of it was utterly lawful.’

 

‘So you’re going to take me to court over this?’ Hermione asked with an arched look.

 

‘Only if you insist on blackmailing me and interfering with mine and my son’s affairs.’ He tiled his head back slightly to gaze down his nose at her imperiously. ‘The choice is yours.’

 

‘This is such a mess,’ Hermione muttered irritably, ‘and you’re impossible.’

 

‘I prefer to think of it as being experienced,’ Lucius countered in his customary drawl, telling her that he had reverted back to his supercilious charade. ‘I have had some dealing with such matters of a … questionable nature and am aware of all the footfalls involved. You, on the other hand, Miss Granger, know nothing on the subject, and make a rather easy opponent to beat.’

 

‘Maybe that’s true, but at least I’ve got a clean record,’ Hermione retorted, fighting off the overwhelming sense of power emanating from him, as well as her thoughts that were recalling her fantasy about him. She pushed her wand forward until it was touching his chest and prepared to blast him off his feet with a hex, when she caught the scent of his cologne and froze.

 

He smelt of cedar, mandarin and musk. It really was divine.

 

‘What is it to be, then, Miss Granger?’

 

Hermione blinked and glanced up at him quickly, noticing that he was wearing a slightly stoical expression, the Veritaserum presumably making him show the seriousness that he was feeling inside.

 

‘Will you swear upon silence, or should we go round in endless circles, never quite able to rest from the fear that one will use the other’s secrets to expose them?’

 

‘I don’t see why I should be complying to _your_ terms. Mine would benefit not only you and me, but Draco and Astoria as well. You do want him to be happy, don’t you?’

 

‘More than anything in the world,’ Lucius replied curtly, his mood changing as suddenly as the weather. ‘However, I don’t believe he will find it in joining with Astoria Greengrass.’

 

‘He _loves_ her!’ Hermione burst out. ‘If he can’t find happiness in marrying the woman he loves, then where is he supposed to find it?’

 

‘In something rather more useful and consistent than love,’ Lucius answered stiffly. ‘A successful career, for instance, will give him a lifetime of contentment, whereas love offers happiness for only as long as it lasts, and it is a well-known fact that it is one of the things in life with the shortest expiration date.’

 

‘You clearly haven’t been in love,’ Hermione said with an incredulous shake of her head, ‘or you wouldn’t be saying that.’

 

‘Indeed, I have never known it, nor do I expect to. I have no time to indulge such fanciful appetites.’

 

‘But you’ve got time to plot a complicated scheme of blackmailing me with non-existent evidence.’

 

‘It was hardly complicated. A little more elaborate than usual, but nothing beyond the grasp of a wizard of my intelligence.’

 

Hermione bit back a groan of frustration and stepped past him to get some space, finding his arrogance and his willing ignorance to be smothering. It was beyond her comprehension how a man who obviously did love could deny himself so thoroughly. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he had never been in love with anyone, and it made her sympathise with his former wife, as she couldn’t imagine twenty plus years of loveless marriage as being particularly enjoyable. Perhaps they had been affectionate of each other, but Hermione knew only too well how that wasn’t enough to satisfy a heart that wanted more.

 

She could now see what Draco had meant by saying that his father didn’t tend to listen, but that fact now distressed her more than it infuriated her. It pained her to see someone in such a state of deliberate hard-heartedness and she wanted nothing more than to prove to Lucius that he was very much in the wrong about love and the source of happiness.

 

‘Mr Malfoy, I don’t think I should have to blackmail you into giving Draco the unrivalled happiness of love, but I certainly will if you continue to refuse him that blessing.’

 

‘It truly does mean quite something to you, doesn’t it?’ Lucius mused as he eyed her with a frown. ‘You really must feel rather indebted to him, to be fighting so stubbornly for his case.’

 

‘I do,’ Hermione said simply, and she meant it. ‘He showed me what love is, and that’s more than I can say for most people I know.

 

Lucius appeared to grow thoughtful, his grey eyes narrowing in calculation while he unwittingly tapped one forefinger against his side. His long hair, which fell loosely over his shoulders, gleamed in the light as he tilted his head slightly to one side, and Hermione was once again reminded of her dreams. She clenched her hands when she felt herself wanting to reach out and run her fingers through the sleek, pale strands and see if it felt as wonderful and erotic as it had been in her mind.

 

Her surveying of him only grew bolder and more thrilling when he didn’t notice her attention as he remained too consumed by his thoughts which had to be weighing down his options. Hermione tried to hold back all the sordid speculations passing through her mind as she watched him, but found that they only grew wilder the more she tried to suppress them.

 

She was saved from further internal conflict by seeing Lucius prepare to give his answer, his cold, pale eyes alighting on her with what she assumed was the utmost disdain.

 

‘It would seem that I have little choice but to accept your terms, Miss Granger.’

 

‘That’s probably the best decision you’ll ever make, Mr Malfoy,’ Hermione assured him confidently. ‘If you could just swear it, then I’ll leave you alone, hopefully for all eternity.’

 

‘Well, then, I shall swear to you upon my father’s life.’

 

Hermione looked at him questioningly. ‘Isn’t your father dead?’

 

‘Ah, yes, well that would be the point.’

 

‘Look, Mr Malfoy, why don’t you just swear on Draco’s life and be done with it? I mean, what’re you so afraid of? It’s only going to give you a wonderful daughter-in-law.’

 

‘Yes, but how am I supposed to know that she will indeed be wonderful? She could be an absolute harridan, for all I know.’

 

‘Just swear it. Please.

 

‘Very well.’ He made a show of taking a deep breath. ‘I swear to you, upon my son’s life, that I shall not involve myself in illegal activities, and that I shall support my son in his choice of bride and allow them to wed at Malfoy Manor.’

 

‘Now, if you’d just said that in the beginning, then we wouldn’t have wasted –’ she glanced at the clock on the wall, ‘– half an hour in this room.’

 

‘When a man is bargaining for his right to make life decisions, that is hardly a waste of time,’ Lucius countered conceitedly while Hermione walked to her desk, rolling her eyes.

 

‘Yes, but the problem is, Mr Malfoy, you were trying to make life decisions for other people, and that’s really not good for anyone, least of all your grown-up son.’

 

‘Draco still requires guidance.’

 

‘Don’t we all?’ Hermione said with a sigh, opening the top drawer and reaching into it to close a hand around another small vial at the back. ‘I know you just want to give him the best and protect him from mistakes that maybe you feel yourself to have made, but life’s all about making your own mistakes and learning from them. It’s the only way you’ll really appreciate those lessons.’

 

‘And I suppose dear little saints such as yourself no longer make these mistakes?’

 

Hermione gave a snort. ‘I’m hardly a saint if I’m blackmailing people and spiking their drink with Veritaserum.’

 

‘That is true.’

 

‘But I have learnt a few very important lessons from all this,’ Hermione admitted as she walked back towards him. ‘The most vital being that love is the start and the end of all things.’

 

‘And the other lessons?’ Lucius asked, clearly finding the talk of love to be distasteful.

 

‘Well, one would be not to blackmail you again, otherwise I’ll never get rid of you, and another one is not to judge someone before you’ve seen them in the light of truth.’

 

‘How very wise,’ Lucius remarked with a slight sneer, presumably trying to make Hermione feel foolish, but she was too used to sticking up for her ideas to take any notice of his jeering. Instead, she held out the glass vial to him, the pale violet liquid inside swilling around slightly.

 

‘Here, drink this. It’s an antidote to the Veritaserum.’

 

Lucius cocked one eyebrow. ‘How do I know that it isn’t poison or something of the like?’

 

‘Because if I wanted you dead, Mr Malfoy, I wouldn’t have bothered trying to talk some sense into you beforehand,’ Hermione said impatiently, offering the vial a little more pressingly. ‘I just feel that since you had the goodness to be fairly discreet during this entire thing, then I should offer that, too.’

 

‘You do realise that my discretion was exercised purely for the sake of my own interests?’

 

‘Yes, but there’s no need to say things like that. Let’s just leave it at you having been a better man than usual, and I was a slightly worse woman.’

 

‘That seems a fairly satisfactory conclusion,’ Lucius drawled as he took the vial from her and uncorked it. ‘I don’t believe that you would be capable of deliberately poisoning me, in any case. You simply don’t have that kind of instinct.’

 

‘That’s something to be proud of, in case you didn’t realise,’ Hermione told him with a slight lift of her chin. She watched with anticipation as he tiled his head back slightly to take a small gulp of the antidote, noticing the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Her hand felt a little clammy as she took back the vial when he passed it to her.

 

‘Well, that was a charming little conversation,’ he drawled with all his familiar condescension as he picked up the outer robes that he had shed, ‘but I do believe we have been here long enough.’

 

‘Yes,’ Hermione agreed, feeling oddly reluctant all of a sudden. ‘Draco must be worrying for you.’

 

They spoke no more as they left the office, Lucius leading the way this time in his arrogant, indolent gait. Hermione marched along just behind him, trying to ignore the urge to stare at his back and guess what it looked like underneath his robes. She chased away the thoughts that suggested he might be quite lean yet muscled in an effortless way.

 

Her thoughts got no better as they rode down in the lift, but she managed to pretend that nothing other than facts and work-related matters were passing through her head when he chanced a sideways glance at her.

 

As the lift doors opened onto the Atrium, all the noise and music of the ball flooded into their ears, and Hermione felt it to be rather surreal, as though she had been gone from it all for a very long time. Beside her, Lucius Malfoy drew himself to his full height before stepping out, and Hermione let himself go on ahead to make it seem as though they had happened to be sharing the lift by coincidence.

 

A quick glance around the huge hall showed the party to be in full swing, and there was now a considerable number of witches and wizards on the dance floor, either dancing with each other or by themselves. Nearest the band was Ron, swinging his long arms and shaking his legs as though he had a beetle down his back. A bottle of Dragontail was being tipped about in one hand, and Hermione cringed at seeing both what it was doing to him and what it would make of him later.

 

‘Granger?’

 

She jumped slightly, and then tried to hide it under a hasty smile as she turned around. ‘Draco.’

 

‘Father told me what happened.’

 

‘Oh? What did he, er, say exactly?’

 

‘That you gave a big speech on what it means to love, and he changed his mind because of it.’

 

Hermione looked at him in surprise, but didn’t try to correct him.

 

‘He said he would let me marry Astoria at the manor if I brought her to dinner next week, so I just came to say … er, thanks.’

 

‘You’re welcome,’ Hermione replied automatically, her weak smile becoming brilliant as she realised that she had won. ‘I hope it brings you every happiness.’

 

Draco merely nodded and lingered awkwardly for a moment before giving her a final nod and disappearing back into the crowd. Hermione watched him go, slightly wistful for the friendship that they would never have and elated that something good had come out of all the blackmailing and spiting.

 

‘Perhaps you would like to join me in a toast, Miss Granger,’ Lucius drawled as he, too, came up from behind, startling her. He offered her a glass of champagne, and in her slightly stunned state of mind, she took it. ‘I think you have earned the right to raise a glass in honour of my son and my future daughter-in-law.’

 

Taken aback by the extent of his changed heart, Hermione dumbly raised her glass and lightly clinked it against his before following him in taking a sip. Lucius smiled, not all that unpleasantly, and seemed to be in far better spirits than she had ever known him to be.

 

‘So I really may trust you not to share the secrets that I disclosed to you?’

 

‘Definitely,’ Hermione replied without hesitation. ‘I can’t think how bringing down someone else would ever benefit me.’

 

‘That is most excellent.’ His gaze left her to rove over the people before them, appearing to be drawn to one person who seemed to be attracting attention without even meaning to. ‘Don’t you think that your former fiancé is an idiot?’

 

Hermione followed his line of view and grimaced at seeing Ron trying to lure a pretty witch with his atrocious dancing. ‘Yes, I guess he is.’

 

‘I can’t say how glad I am that you chose not to marry him. You would no doubt have been made to bear a reckless number of children as his wife, and the world has seen far too many Weasleys already.’

 

‘Well, that was another reason that I broke up with him. The pressure to start a family’s too much, and I want to concentrate on my career at the moment. It’s a really exciting time to be in the Ministry right now.’

 

‘So I told Draco, but we shall see if he has listened at all.’

 

Hermione took another gulp of champagne, enjoying the crisp, sparkling taste rolling across her tongue and the hint of light-headedness that came over her. She was about to take a larger sip, when she saw Ron’s head turn her way and his clouded blue eyes locked with hers across the hall.

 

There was a pause; and then he was stumbling his way towards her, pushing past bewildered wizards and indignant witches. Hermione glanced around frantically, knowing that something ugly would very likely transpire from meeting a drunken Ron, and she found herself clutching at straws to get out of the situation before it had even begun.

 

‘Mr Malfoy, I need you to dance with me.’

 

Surprise flitted across Lucius’ face. ‘I beg your pardon?’

 

‘Dance. I want you do dance with me.’

 

He cleared his throat and fiddled with his cravat. ‘I would rather not.’

 

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake, he’s almost here!’ Hermione cried, snatching Lucius’ glass out of his hand and placing it down on a nearby tray with hers. Then, before he could protest any further, she grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the edge of the dance floor, where she placed one of his reluctant hands on her waist, gripped the other, and started to waltz.

 

‘What on earth are you doing, Miss Granger?’ he demanded angrily even as he eased into the dance.

 

‘I’m not giving Ron a chance to make a scene,’ Hermione replied as she peered over his shoulder to see a red-faced Ron glaring at her. The insult of having his ex-fiancée whirling around the room in the arms of an old enemy seemed to be too much for him, and he turned sharply on his heel to push his way through the throngs of chatting witches and laughing wizards.

 

‘I like your smell,’ she heard herself say when her nose picked up the scent of Lucius’ cologne. She felt his arms stiffen around her, but he didn’t let go. ‘It’s very masculine.’

 

Lucius licked his lips and avoided her gaze. ‘Yes, it is rather.’

 

‘Are you disgusted at the idea of dancing with me?’

 

He continued to look past her. ‘Hardly.’

 

‘Good, Hermione sighed as she relaxed into the soaring steps and the hands holding her. It occurred to her that he could very well be lying, but it didn’t seem to matter when he led her so elegantly and easily. She became aware of the feel of his robes under the hand resting on his shoulder, and she stroked the material slightly, relishing its luxurious texture.

 

Lucius cleared his throat again and turned his head to see where he was taking them across the floor. It gave Hermione a glimpse of his throat under his cravat, and she struggled to repress the desire to press her lips to it.

 

‘Perhaps you would care to tell me, Miss Granger, what you know of the Ministry’s relation with the Egyptian one.’

 

‘I really don’t know much about it, as it’s not in my department,’ Hermione replied as he carefully spun her around when the music called for it. ‘I just know that the Egyptian Minister does his job well.’

 

‘I see.’

 

He looked disappointed for a brief moment before the expression vanished under a smooth veneer of natural haughtiness. The look pricked Hermione’s annoyance, but she honestly now believed it to be only a mask that he wore in public, having seen how drawn and serious he had been when speaking and acting the truth. It made her wonder what he was hiding under the gleam of arrogance currently on display.

 

‘I’m glad you’re letting Draco marry here.’

 

Lucius wrinkled his nose slightly. ‘Well, it was either that, or have him seek his mother’s support and possibly wed at her residence instead. And no Malfoy should marry anywhere but at his rightful home, and no woman seeking to become a Malfoy should be made into one elsewhere.’

 

‘Is that really all you feel?’

 

‘Should I be feeling more?’

 

Hermione laughed out of exasperation, breaking away from him and walking off the dance floor, aware that he was following her. ‘I wanted a drink,’ she explained when he caught up with her, and it was no longer so unexpected when he held a glass of champagne out to her within moments. She took a few gulps with a thankful look, noticing that Lucius merely glanced at her indifferently while one of his hands lingered on the small of her back where it had come to rest after they were buffeted to the side by a small band of raucous wizards heading for the dance floor.

 

‘Did you really never love your wife?’

 

His hand was gone in an instant and his look replaced with one of wariness. ‘I don’t think that concerns you, Miss Granger.’

 

‘Yes, I know, but you did say that you’ve never loved anyone after I’d given you Veritaserum.’

 

‘And we agreed not to speak of private matters anymore,’ Lucius reminded her coolly. ‘I would very much like to keep it that way, otherwise I cannot guarantee that the secrets I keep for you shan’t find their way into the paper one morning.’

 

‘You’ve got no sense of decency,’ Hermione remarked sullenly. ‘You’d sell your own mother to get a promotion, wouldn’t you?’

 

‘Well, the answer to that shall remain unknown, for my mother is quite dead and buried.’

 

‘I worry for her bones.’

 

‘Ah, yes, but I did swear to you on my son’s life that I would not get involved in unlawful dealings, and I rather fear that grave-robbing counts as such a thing.’ He automatically relieved her of her glass when it was empty, placing it carelessly onto a passing tray.

 

‘Thank you.’

 

Lucius merely inclined his head in acceptance and let his gaze roam beyond her, not bothering to try and charm her with his false smiles and flattery, which only served to make him more appealing in Hermione’s eyes. She detested sycophants and people who went out of their way to torment other people, but it was clear to her that Lucius Malfoy wasn’t quite as simple and definable as that. He did and said many things under all sorts of pretences, but she knew that his love for his son was the one thing that he could not pretend. She also knew that he genuinely believed that he was saving Draco from getting hurt in the future by clamping down on his love for Astoria while it was still blooming.

 

‘I guess you’re just trying to be a good father,’ she said at length, drawing Lucius’ attention back to her. ‘I’ve got to give you credit for that.’

 

Lucius looked at her for a long moment, his face quite blank. The sheer lack of pretence threw Hermione off and made her feel a bit flustered; a fact which she tried to cover up by looking up at him defiantly, but meeting his gaze only made it worse. Those silvery pale eyes of his shifted like mercury, changing from their usual guarded coldness to something more like emptiness. It reminded her of how he had once looked all those years ago at the end of the war, and she felt her heart being tugged towards him.

 

‘You are the first person to say such a thing,’ he said, still drawling, though its pretentiousness was softened by his oddly unassuming demeanour.

 

Hermione attempted to smile carelessly, but it came out strained. ‘I’m sure it’s only because no one else has made you tell the truth quite like I have. I don’t think many people get a chance to really know you, Mr Malfoy.’

 

‘No, I expect not.’

 

She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze. ‘I’d better go and find my friends. They’ll think I’ve been kidnapped, otherwise.’

 

‘Of course.’ He stepped back and gave her a cold smile, drawing on his façade again. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Granger. You may also wish to take some of that antidote you keep in your office.’

 

Hermione looked up at him sharply. ‘Did you spike my drink?’

 

His smirk seemed genuine. ‘I was merely levelling the ground, so to speak. Playing fair, although I hardly asked you any questions, so perhaps we are still uneven.’

 

‘You – you … How did you even get hold of the Veritaserum?’

 

‘Really, Miss Granger, you sound as though you would never do such a thing yourself. Is it so unthinkable that I, too, might keep a bottle of it upon my person at certain times?’

 

Merlin, you really are a piece of work,’ Hermione muttered irritably, suddenly understanding why she had spoken certain things that she might otherwise have never said. ‘This is goodbye and good riddance.’

 

‘I return from Cairo in four weeks,’ Lucius said suddenly, his eyes catching Hermione’s and holding them in an open gaze. ‘It shall perhaps be the last time that I am in the country for quite some time.’

 

Hermione stared back at him for a moment before giving a jerky little nod. She watched, bemused, as he bowed his head stiffly in return and turned away to vanish into the crowd without a backward glance. The music continued to swell and fade with rhythmic sighs around her, but Hermione felt strangely disjointed from the entire setting, thinking that she felt regret, though for what, she wasn’t sure.

 

Taking his suggestion one last time, she slowly made her way back to the lifts, wishing that she had an antidote for the confused swirl of feelings tumbling about inside.

 

 

 

 

The wedding of Draco Ulysses Malfoy-Black and Astoria Greengrass had been postponed for an extra week as his father fought to scratch off ‘Black’ from his son’s full name. Narcissa Black had made a small fuss of standing up to her ex-husband, just because it seemed only proper to show a bit of fight, but the matter had eventually been smoothed out by the groom becoming solely Malfoy again

 

It was exactly a month after the Order Commemoration Ball that Hermione saw a large paragraph in the society pages of the _Daily Prophet_ announcing the Malfoy wedding, and she couldn’t help a big smile as she went about her day. Things were looking brighter and she was enjoying life as a single woman who had the freedom to do whatever she wanted to do and without having to tell anybody. She still had occasional nights of reaching across her bed and finding it horribly empty, but she was starting to get used to it.

 

Draco’s marriage, to her, felt like the end of a chapter in her life that had seen a permanent breaking away from an old friend and love. She and Ron hadn’t seen each other much since the ball, but it was part of a mutual decision to keep their distance while they both made themselves comfortable with a fresh start. Sometimes, she thought she missed him, but a little bit of contemplation always led to the conclusion that she missed the _idea_ of him more than Ron himself.

 

Walking along Diagon Alley, she felt a spring in her step at knowing that she had a chance to begin all over again. There would be no more delusions and deceptions to bind her to commitments that she didn’t want to keep; she would make sure that she gave her heart as much of a say as her mind, and be a little more impulsive to break the monotony of her steady routine.

 

Wearing an easy smile, she made her way up the street, a small bundle of freshly bought books tucked under one arm while in the other, she carried a paper bag stamped with the logo of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

 

She was in the middle of wondering how the Malfoy newlyweds were doing, when she noticed the striking contrast of white-blond against black out of the corner of her eye and stopped in her tracks. The impressive white marble face of Gringotts Bank rose up in front of her, but for once she had no interest in the handsome structure as her gaze landed on the wizard walking down the wide steps. He was reading a scroll that he held stretched out with hands encased in black leather gloves, his brow furrowing into a small frown.

 

Hermione swallowed thickly and considered marching off quickly, but it struck her as the act of a coward, and if she had learnt anything from the entire ordeal with the Malfoys, it was that running away from things never solved anything.

 

Mustering up her courage and confidence, she firmly called out, ‘Mr Malfoy!’ and watched as he raised his head to look directly at her.

 

She quivered slightly at meeting his silver-eyed gaze.

 

‘Miss Granger … What a pleasant surprise.’ He hardly quickened his pace as he sauntered down the last few steps to join her on the street. ‘I did not expect to see you today.’

 

‘Neither did I. I thought you were in Cairo.’

 

‘I was, and I shall be again by this evening. I merely returned for the week to attend to a few business matters.’

 

‘Oh?’

 

‘Namely, I have just passed on the ownership of Puddlemere United to one Ludo Bagman, whom you know, I dare say. Several years abroad seems to have changed his financial luck quite substantially, and he is rather interested in buying out as many English teams as he can.’

 

‘I suppose it must be impractical owning a team here when you live in Egypt.’

 

‘Oh, it was not due to being impractical,’ Lucius countered offhandedly. ‘I merely did it because I have no reason to own an actual team, now that there is no chance of interesting my son in the management of it so as to keep him from marrying. I need not say how that particular strategy turned out.’

 

‘But don’t you want to own it just because you can?’

 

Lucius gave her an odd look. ‘Certainly not. I don’t have enough interest in the project to pursue it any further.’

 

‘So you don’t like Quidditch.’

 

‘Hardly.’

 

Hermione’s esteem of him rose, and she dared to hope that he had more redeeming qualities that would excuse the thoughts she had been having of him lately, which she had had to label ‘unreasonable’ for the time being. Ginny’s constant reminders that all Malfoys were bad made her wary of saying anything about them out loud, but it was easy to forget her friend’s stringent disapproval when she was facing a Malfoy, especially the one that she had secretly been wanting to see.

 

Glancing at him now, she noticed that the Egyptian sun hadn’t seemed to have touched him, although there did seem to be something livelier and lighter about his expressions. Even when he sneered as he looked at the paper bag in her arm, it didn’t seem half as insulting.

 

‘Well, now, Miss Granger, what have we here?’ His eyes lit up and a smirk twisted the corner of his mouth as he reached into the bag and pulled out a box of Patented Daydream Charms. ‘Are we enjoying a guilty pleasure?’

 

‘It’s not for me,’ Hermione said quickly, feeling her cheeks burning. ‘It’s for a friend.’

 

‘Of course it is,’ Lucius said dismissively as he looked over the packaging a little more carefully. ‘I can’t quite decide whether I would believe that more if you were married or single.’

 

‘Mr Malfoy, please.’ She glanced around them nervously at the other witches and wizards passing by with the occasional look in their direction. She let out a breath of relief when he finally handed it back to her, though it wasn’t without a show.

 

‘Well, we all have dreams,’ he said with affected benevolence. ‘After all, it is the best place to liaise with people who may very well not be half so pleasant in real life.’

 

Hermione looked up at him alarm, worried that he could read her mind. 

 

‘I imagine you are simply dying to meet Mr Wood again,’ he drawled airily as he neatly rolled up the scroll he had been reading and placed it into an inner pocket of his robes. ‘So I shan’t keep you any longer. Good day, Miss Granger.’

 

‘I don’t dream about _Oliver_ ,’ Hermione said, almost scornfully. She realised her mistake when Lucius turned back to her with a slightly predatory smile.

 

‘Ah, then the Daydream Charms are indeed for yourself.’

 

‘I – I never said that. I just said that I don’t –’

 

‘Yes, yes, I heard you the first time round, and I hardly care to hear it repeated.’ He seemed a little irritated suddenly. ‘Good day, Miss Granger.’

 

‘But …’

 

‘Was there something else you wished to say? I do have a rather hectic schedule today, and am due to meet my daughter-in-law for lunch shortly. It wouldn’t do to keep the dear girl waiting.’

 

‘So you do like her after all.’

 

Lucius struggled to keep his smug smile in place. ‘I must admit, I was somewhat mistaken about her. She has proved to be a most perfect addition to my family. Excellent taste and character, if I might say so. There never was a better witch to be a wife for my son.’

 

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Hermione said, trying to feel delighted at hearing him sing the praises of another woman. ‘Um, I don’t know if you remember, but you told me at the ball that you’d be back in a month’s time …’

 

His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Indeed, I do recall it.’

 

‘Well, I just … I wanted to know why you said it. Why you told _me_.’

 

‘I thought it might interest you to know that after this evening, I shall no longer be in the country, so you shan’t have to worry about possible encounters that would see a revival of blackmailing, at least not from me.’

 

Hermione studied him closely, trying to discern what was passing through his mind beneath his polished, sneering front. Whatever it was, she was certain that it was not the casual insensitivity that seemed to roll too smoothly off of him, though were it not for the fact that she was starting to feel a little desperate, she would have let herself believe him and let him go.

 

As it was, she found herself fighting the urge to give up and run away, having become aware of what it was that she regretted.

 

‘You know, you don’t have to wait for me to give you Veritaserum to tell me the truth, Lucius,’ she said in a lowered voice, searching for signs of his true mood. ‘And if it makes it any easier, I’ll tell you that I have thought about you. Quite a lot, actually.’

 

His habitual sneer remained in place, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere as he looked at her with incomprehension in his eyes. Hermione offered him a tentative smile, suddenly fearing that she was sorely mistaken and that he, in fact, had no feelings for her except those of contempt. The thought of that humiliation made her panic somewhat.

 

‘I – I mean, you’ve given me quite a lot to think about, Mr Malfoy, and I just wanted to let you know that I, um, appreciate the fact that you’ve kept your word on all this and –’

 

‘Why change back?’

 

Hermione blinked. ‘Sorry?’

 

‘You called me Lucius, but then went back to Mr Malfoy.’ He looked at her expectantly. ‘Why did you change back, Miss Granger?’

 

‘Because I … I thought you might not like me being too familiar.’

 

‘Perhaps we should take this somewhere a little more private.’

 

Hermione could only nod, feeling too embarrassed to flee without regaining at least some of her dignity. A quick flick of her wand saw her shopping shrink down until it was small enough to fit in one pocket. She was both glad and disappointed when he didn’t offer her his arm, and accepted that he was merely being careful not to make them the subject of gossip as they strolled towards the archway that led down into Knockturn Alley. Even walking side by side was drawing some attention, and Hermione could hope that there would be less prying eyes wherever they were going.

 

She was too busy thinking and worrying to notice that he silently steered them with only the force of his presence to a tall, thin building halfway down the narrower road. Hermione stopped abruptly when he did, almost colliding into his side. At his slight gesture, she looked up at the grimy front of a pub. The sign hanging above the door bore a faded image and the words, _The Leering Lion_.

 

‘For old times’ sake,’ Lucius drawled with a ghost of a smirk at seeing her hesitate. ‘After all, you do owe me several drinks, I should think.’

 

Hermione suppressed her nervousness and gave a curt nod, unable to explain how her desire to not enter the pub wasn’t only because of the drunken night weeks ago. Watching him go in with head held high, she forced herself to believe that it was the perfect chance to test her courage and maybe even win back some pride. With a ball of trepidation lodged in her chest, she passed over the threshold into the pub.

 

Inside, it looked like any other establishment of similar trade and reputation, the wooden floor weathered with age and the sturdy, simple furniture matching the dull, dark, panelled walls. Hermione thought she vaguely remembered the room, but it was still lost in a hazy memory. Looking towards the bar, she saw Lucius speaking in furtive tones to a large, sullen barman with a shiny, bald head and a slightly lazy eye. She imagined that he was even grumpier than normal at having to speak to a wizard with a head full of hair, and dazzling hair at that.

 

She was starting to wonder what kind of transaction the two men were making, when Lucius gave a final nod to the barkeeper and turned around to beckon her with a gloved finger.

 

‘Come along, Miss Granger,’ he said in a patronising tone as she walked cautiously towards him. ‘We have been given a room for further privacy.’

 

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she followed his lead up the rickety wooden stairs, feeling anxious by the wholly unexpected turn her day was taking and not daring to believe that it was what she wanted. The musty smell rising from the dark carpet softening their footsteps only made her more uneasy as she began to remember a bit more. Or perhaps she was just dreaming it, but that didn’t make things much better.

 

Finally, Lucius stopped outside a door at the end of the first floor corridor, using a heavy key to unlock it, which struck Hermione as being strange. She didn’t know of many places in the magical world that bothered to use actual keys since there were Locking and Unlocking Charms.

 

‘Ladies first,’ he said as he held the door open for her, his smile looking a little forced. Hermione hovered just outside, glancing first up at him, and then at the room before deciding that she would only know the outcome of their meeting if she stayed for it.

 

The first glance around the small bedchamber made her tense up immediately as she realised that it was the same room that she had seen in every daydream since the fantasy with Oliver. Feeling a little alarmed all of a sudden, she turned back to look at the exit, only to see Lucius closing the door and locking it behind him with the key. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. Then, he came towards her with almost silent steps.

 

Hermione tried taking a few steps back, but had taken no more than two when she bumped into the foot of the large double bed. Lucius stopped when he was standing with only a foot of distance between them, and Hermione saw the slight shadows resting beneath his eyes.

 

‘Now then,’ he began in a quieter drawl, ‘you were telling me something, Miss Granger.’

 

‘I was?’

 

‘Indeed. Something that might allow me to say a few words of my own.’

 

Hermione stared up at him helplessly. ‘I … I’ve dreamt about you. I dream about you every time. I’ve tried thinking of a hundred different things and seeing a dozen different faces, but … I always get you.’

 

She blushed and avoided looking into his eyes, finding them too intense to meet in her embarrassed state. When the seconds passed in silence, she became more and more convinced that she was only heading towards disaster. It made her wish for the ground to open and swallow her up, and maybe Lucius, too, just for good measure.

 

‘It was in this very room that I saw Madame Pampalome for the first time,’ Lucius said in an unusually reserved tone, drawing Hermione’s wide eyes to him. ‘I have never believed in the powers of Divination, but it had reached a point in my life when it really didn’t seem so absurd to want a little guidance from something superior to the human mind.’

 

Hermione watched, captivated, as he slowly raised a hand to lightly brush the back of a finger against her wrist and slide his way up her arm.

 

‘I was rather tired of making mistakes which earned me my wife’s indifference and my son’s resentment.’ He paused when his finger reached the crook of her elbow. ‘I thought that perhaps Divination, of all things, would clear my foresight with a little knowledge of the future, and I had heard that Madame Pampalome was no fraud. I needed very little convincing at the time to seek her out.

 

‘Suffice to say, I was left rather disappointed upon more than one occasion, but the possibility that she might truly know of something that would turn my luck around served to entice me again and again. It is hardly a surprise that she needed no other clients when she had me paying fifty Galleons a time to hear her speak.’

 

‘You paid _fifty Galleons?_ ’ Hermione couldn’t help exclaiming in a voice that had been reduced to a whisper through nerves.

 

A small smile of bitterness rose to Lucius’ lips. ‘That is hardly the troubling part to my story, Miss Granger. After all, I have realised over the years what a terrible mistress money has been to me, and I have not regretted the times when I have attempted to rid myself of her.’ He gently rubbed circles into her upper arm with a thumb. ‘She has always called for me to dedicate myself to her cause only, and I allowed myself to get so infatuated that I almost lost my family entirely.’

 

Hermione felt her breath catch when his other hand came to smooth its way across her hip and up to cradle her waist.

 

‘By the time I realised my error in prioritising, it was too late to save my marriage, but I thought that perhaps I could at least salvage what little love my son still had for me.’ He stepped closer until the front of their robes brushed against each other. ‘I made various attempts to prove to him that I had changed, and that I would change yet more if he wished it, but he would not believe me. Perhaps he could not after all that I had let him go through.’

 

‘But you were in Azkaban; there was nothing you _could_ do,’ Hermione pointed out, no longer even trying to stop herself from feeling the strange feelings that the wizard aroused in her. ‘And even if you had been with your family, it would’ve been impossible to stave off Voldemort without risking death.’

 

‘Ah, but I would have risked that,’ Lucius said, his voice dropping lower as he pressed himself slightly against her and leaned his head down so that his lips hovered close to her ear. ‘I would have risked everything to keep them safe.’

 

‘I know,’ Hermione said softly, reaching up to touch his hair, hesitantly at first, and then sliding her fingers into the silky, loose strands. She thought she heard a noise catch slightly in the back of his throat, and she brought her other hand to curve around the back of his neck. The hand on her arm tightened for a moment before gliding up to bury itself in her mass of curls.

 

‘You made Draco believe me,’ he murmured, his breath warm in her ear. ‘I cannot say I understand how it happened, but my son returned to me and I believe it was … because of you.’

 

‘He was never going to desert you,’ Hermione assured him, closing her eyes to draw in his scent. ‘He always knew you loved him. I just helped him see it a bit better.’

 

‘I think perhaps you have done the same for me.’ His arm snaked around her back to hold her closer to him, and she let herself relax into the embrace fully. A slight sigh escaped her lips when she finally felt his lips against her skin as they brushed against her jaw and pressed kisses and half-kisses up to the corner of her mouth.

 

It felt a thousand times better than a dream, and Hermione knew that she could not listen to her rational mind and leave as it advised her to. She knew that she would regret it forever if she did.

 

Instead, she stayed and clung to the man against her, who was so real and so alive, and parted her lips for him when she felt his tongue trace lightly across the seams of her mouth. It was all too easy to forget everything when he lightly dragged his lips against hers and tugged at her lower lip, and the first thing to desert her mind was her own name.

 

The hand that had been burrowing in her hair and cupping the back of her head now reached down and touched her thigh before taking hold of it and pulling it up to hook around his hip. Hermione felt his erection press against her and she choked back a whimper, moulding into him when his other arm slipped down her back to take her by the arse and lift her up onto the bed. She held onto the front of his robes and used her grip to pull him after her, raising herself up on an elbow to meet his mouth as he slowly leaned over her.

 

She broke away when her mind sparked one last thought.

 

‘What about your lunch with Astoria?’

 

‘I have a lifetime of opportunities to lunch with her,’ Lucius said, looking a little annoyed by the interruption. ‘The barman knows to deliver a message telling her that I am very much unavailable.’

 

‘So you knew you were … what, going to seduce me?’

 

‘I knew,’ he began through a clenched jaw, ‘that I would be in no mood to be exchanging small talk with my daughter-in-law after I had seen you, regardless of what would actually transpire from our discussion.’

 

Hermione licked her lips and nodded. She raised a hand to his face and stroked his jaw, feeling it steadily loosen under her touch. Lucius let her be tender for a moment before he leaned over her again to kiss her, this time a little more forcefully, his knees nudging her legs apart. Hermione complied, all the while licking back at the tongue keenly exploring her mouth and pulling at his robes in the hopes that they would somehow fall off.

 

She felt him shudder slightly when her hand managed to slip in past his shirt and touch his bare chest, her fingers stretching out until they came across a heartbeat almost as rapid as her own. A slight groan sounded in the back of Lucius’ throat and he reluctantly pulled away, straightening up as he kneeled before her and swiftly disrobing himself. Hermione watched, enthralled at seeing the heavy layers of black peeling back over his shoulders until he was at last down to his shirt. The buttons didn’t seem to come undone fast enough.

 

He was indeed lean and lightly muscled, his angular build so different from the lanky, boyish frame of her former fiancé. She couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him as his shirt fell open and his smooth, pale skin was revealed to her, and she revelled in the way he drew in a sharp breath as she ghosted her fingers over his abdomen. Her hand dipped lower, cupping him through his trousers, and she felt a thrill at feeling his hips jerk against her.

 

Thirsting to see more, she used both hands to undo the front of his trousers and push it down past his narrow hips before reaching in to draw out his hardening cock. The sight of it triggered an unexplainable rush of feeling that Hermione couldn’t account for, and overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation of passion, she let it whisk her out of her usual proper, prudish cast. It emboldened her, and she felt strangely delighted by her newfound sureness as she stroked a thumb over the flushed head of Lucius’ straining member, feeling immensely pleased at hearing a barely suppressed moan from above.

 

Lucius moved with less elegance as he removed his shirt completely and dropped it behind him to add to the pile of robes on the floor. Hermione continued to stroke him and drag her hand up and down over his erection, feeling its width and the silkiness of the skin, which only fuelled her desire to feel him inside her.

 

‘Lie back,’ he commanded in a terse murmur as he took her hands in his and placed them over her head while she consented and lay back. Then, slipping one arm under her neck and cradling her to him, he used his free hand to push up her robes until she felt the cool air of the room breathe across her hips. She rose up slightly to let him pull down her plain cotton knickers and saw him throw it behind him without a second thought. A gasp left her when he touched her below, his fingers coating themselves in her arousal before slowly sliding into her.

 

Hermione arched up with a sharp breath and thrust her hips against him, wanting more. She had all but forgotten the Lucius in her fantasies as the Lucius in reality slowly delved into her, his lips at her neck as she threw her head back and stared wildly at the ceiling.

 

Finding her hands grasping thin air, Hermione brought them back down to knead her breasts through her robes, feeling her nipples harden in spite of the layer of material. Lucius growled against her skin and he pumped his hand a little faster inside her, still holding her to him, as though any space between them would diminish the rising heights of their pleasure.

 

The quickening pace of his hand made her buck against him and she grew desperate to have more, to have release. She tried twisting her hips and grinding herself against his palm to fill the missing gaps, but it never felt enough, and she told him so with a slight whimper.

 

Realising that she was getting closer to losing herself, Lucius suddenly pulled out his fingers, making Hermione lament the loss before she was arching back again as he thrust his cock in halfway before slowly pushing himself in the rest of the way. His nose pressed up against the underside of her jaw and she felt his tongue flick across her throat, corresponding with the finger that grazed her clit and sent her jerking up against him.

 

He took one of her legs and pulled it over his hip as he began to push in and pull out in a steady rhythm, his cock gliding against her nerve-lined walls so that she clenched around him at every slow thrust. Hermione hooked her other leg around him and shifted so that he could go deeper, and Lucius moaned his appreciation into her neck.

 

His hand came to cover hers at it fondled a breast, stretching out over her smaller hand to squeeze in time to the rhythm down below. Hermione felt herself tremble and creep closer to the very edge, wanting nothing more than to go catapulting off into the limitless skies. She pressed herself as close to him as she could while he fucked her, relishing every moment of being held in his arms. When his lips came up to press against hers, she answered hungrily and sucked at his tongue as it slipped inside her mouth.

 

A slight shift in angle made him rub against a spot that had her crying out, the sound muffled by his mouth on hers. Lucius moved a little faster, the rhythm of his hips becoming increasingly erratic as he drew nearer to his climax. He positioned himself to try and stroke the perfect point of pleasure inside her with each plunge, and Hermione felt herself tighten and tense until it was becoming unbearable …

 

The moment he pulled his head away, she was thrown off a cliff and soaring into indescribable heights, the force of her ecstasy driving out a cry from deep within her that echoed around the small room. Lucius didn’t hold out any longer with her clenching and writhing beneath him, and he came with a violent judder of his hips and a long groan that got lost in her tangled hair as he pressed his face into the wild mass. Heaving with exhaustion, they let the waves of their pleasure wash over them, Hermione clinging to Lucius’ broad back as he lay collapsed on top of her.

 

Eventually, he drew in a deep breath and pulled out completely, taking his time to sit up before he pulled up his trousers again and fastened them. Hermione watched him languidly, too drained of energy to make any effort to be modest. Her eyes followed him as he turned his back on her and rose off the bed. He stooped slightly to pick up all of his discarded clothes and drew them back on with careful, concise movements.

 

‘This won’t be happening again, will it?’ she asked without any real emotion, addressing his shirt-covered back. Lucius didn’t turn around, but continued to dress.

 

‘That would be for the best. I think we have created enough history between us to last a lifetime.’

 

When he did finally turn to look at her, he was wearing his haughty face, but Hermione wasn’t entirely convinced by it.

 

‘We both have futures, and I highly doubt that they are destined to join together at any point.’

 

‘So that’s it?’

 

Lucius’ lips thinned. ‘Let us not get carried away, Miss Granger. You are still rather young; you may wish to marry at some point and start a family of your own. I have my son and his wife to think about. These are responsibilities that we cannot ignore simply because … well, because we can enjoy a bed together.’

 

Hermione tried not to feel disappointed as she watched him turn his attention back to his robes. She felt strangely cheated out of something. An ending. Closure. It was as though the fantasy of Lucius that she had steadily cultivated in the past few weeks wasn’t designed to satisfy with only the fulfilment of her release. She must have wanted more, and she _did_ want more, though how and why, she couldn’t say.

 

By now, the wizard in the room was fully dressed and looking immaculate once more, and Hermione felt like she really had just dreamt their moment together.

 

Lucius cleared his throat and seemed slightly uncomfortable beneath his arrogant veneer as he turned to look at her, and Hermione was prompted to quickly pull down her robes to cover herself as his pale eyes glanced over her.

 

‘My post in Cairo is too good to decline,’ he said unexpectedly, his gaze meeting hers with seeming reluctance. ‘I trust you understand the place a good career holds on the list of one’s priorities.’

 

Hermione nodded, still reclining back against the lumpy pillows on the bed.

 

Lucius tilted his head back slightly to gaze down at her. ‘Well, then. I suppose this is goodbye, Miss Granger, and good riddance.’

 

She couldn’t help a slight smile at how he used her own words, and was glad that it masked the hiss of despair shooting through her. She didn’t want him to know how much of an effect he was having on her, though at the same time, she desperately wished he would see through her act and call her out on it.

 

Lucius lingered for a moment to glance about the room before abruptly turning and opening the door to leave. A feeling of panic seized Hermione. She realised that everything would be lost as soon as he stepped past the threshold, and knowing that she couldn’t let that happen, she jumped up from the bed as though she had been hit by an electric current and ran over to him.

 

‘Lucius, wait!’ she cried out before she was standing behind him and burying her face in his back. The scent of his cologne filled her senses again.

 

‘You – you can’t leave now. Not like this. We’ve … we’ve been through too much for things to go back to how they were.’

 

He felt tense beneath her hands as she held onto his shoulders, and though she was afraid to, Hermione slowly let go of him and stepped back in the hopes of having him turn to her. Her fears seemed to be realised as Lucius remained with his back to her, but then he turned and took a step towards her so that he could close the door behind him. It was probably only because he didn’t want to be overheard and not because he wanted to stay, but Hermione felt relieved all the same.

 

‘What exactly do you want from me?’ he asked, the shadow of a frown beginning to settle on his brow.

 

‘I … I don’t know,’ Hermione answered, hating how childish she sounded in her uncertainty.

 

Lucius raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t know?’

 

Hermione swallowed thickly and shook her head.

 

‘Well, neither do I, Miss Granger, and you should know that I _despise_ not knowing.’

 

‘I want you …?’ she tried again, feeling her courage falter at seeing his expression darken. ‘I mean, I want …’

 

Without warning, Lucius seized her by the arms and pulled her sharply to him, his hands moving to grasp her tightly about the waist as his mouth descended on her in a hot, urgent kiss.

 

Too bewildered to resist, Hermione found herself letting him in and sinking into his tight embrace as his tongue smothered hers with passion. She couldn’t quite understand how any of it was happening, but she knew that this was what had been missing in her life – this hungry, desperate desire that set fire to all of her senses and made her feel more alive than anything she had known. That it was Lucius Malfoy who was infusing her with such feeling and such life was both shocking and exciting beyond her wildest imaginings. The colossal differences between them and the impossibility of a relationship with each other seemed utterly irrelevant when he was clutching her so fiercely to him and pressing his hips against her, his erection hard and thick against her belly.

 

Hermione gasped as he suddenly broke away, his lucid eyes clouded and his breaths coming quickly.

 

‘I am not convinced that this is a good idea,’ he said, looking a little dishevelled, his hands still gripping her at the waist. ‘After all, what on earth are we expecting to get out of this? Other than some pleasure, of course.’

 

‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Hermione said, equally short of breath and feeling oddly thrilled at being so reckless for once in her life. ‘Does it even matter?’

 

Lucius made a low noise of frustration that got lost in the tumbles of her hair before he pulled away sharply and let go of her to step away.

 

‘This is _not_ what is supposed to happen,’ he snarled in vexation as he began pacing before her, reminding her of Draco as he ran a hand through his long, loose hair.

 

‘I am divorced,’ he said a little vehemently as he abruptly halted and spun around to look at Hermione. ‘I have an adult son and I cannot say I have a particular liking for your precious Ministry or the circle in which you involve yourself.’

 

Hermione bit her lip and watched him, not quite sure what she should or could say.

 

‘And you are a Muggle-born,’ Lucius continued more quietly as he turned away from her and resumed his pacing. ‘I cannot forget that.’

 

Hermione watched him as he brooded for a moment, and then instinctively drew in a sharp breath of apprehension when he suddenly whirled around to glare at her, his pale eyes narrowed in hardened scrutiny.

 

‘I cannot understand for the life of me why on earth I should possibly want you,’ he said in a voice shot through with resentment, stinging Hermione deeper than she wanted to admit. ‘It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.’

 

‘Does it – does it always have to make sense?’ Hermione found herself asking him, a little tentatively.

 

‘Yes,’ was the flat reply. ‘How else am I to live a life that is truly the product of my own decisions and determination?’

 

Hermione hesitated and then frowned. ‘You know, I don’t find it easy either. You’re not exactly the kind of person I imagined I’d end up liking.’

 

Lucius glanced at her contemptuously, as though he thought it offensive that she wouldn’t naturally find him attractive while at the same time finding that same idea repulsive. It was, Hermione thought, yet another sign that confirmed what a paradoxical existence the elder Malfoy had created for himself.

 

‘They say that with feelings, its sense is that it doesn’t make sense,’ Hermione found herself saying, remembering Ginny’s advice, although she definitely wasn’t going to repeat the bizarre analogy involving flobberworms and hippogriffs to Lucius. ‘I’m still not sure I like you, Lucius, but I’m willing to try. And I guess you must’ve wanted to as well, if you came back for me.’

 

He made an ostentatious noise of disparagement. ‘I did not come back for _you_.’

 

Hermione inwardly flinched, but was firm in the determination that had gathered inside her.

 

‘Believe that if you want,’ she told him, acting bolder than she felt. ‘But we both know it’s not true. I’ve seen what you’re really like, Lucius Malfoy.’

 

Warily, he raised his eyes to look at her, his gaze suspicious. The mistrust and accusation expressed on his features returned them to a state of conflict and possible enmity that actually felt more comfortable to Hermione than any tenderness or trust, and she felt suddenly enflamed with audacity as she viewed him as an opponent.

 

‘I know you can love and that you _do_ have a conscience,’ she told him fearlessly, looking him directly in the eye. ‘And I’ll always believe that about you, even if no one else does.’

 

He stared at her, his expression so streaked with different feelings that it was practically unfathomable. But the uncertainty that sprung up in Hermione at the sight of it disappeared under the weight of her newfound confidence that wrapped itself around her like a protective cloak.

 

‘And if you can’t accept the fact that you want me, then maybe I can threaten you into wanting me and staying a bit longer.’

 

Immediately, Lucius’ eyes tightened with anger, suggesting that he didn’t like being threatened, even in such innocuous circumstances.

 

‘And just what exactly do you propose to threaten me with?’ he sneered, quite suddenly magnificent and detestable. Just as he should have been.

 

Hermione smiled, feeling unusually mischievous as she slowly backed away until her legs bumped into the bed. She was even more pleased to see Lucius following her, seemingly without even meaning to.

 

‘I will blackmail you into taking a chance on me,’ she said as she sat down, amused and then aroused to have Lucius come and stand directly before her, his crotch at her eye-level.

 

‘You cannot be serious,’ he drawled with a show of cynicism that didn’t waver even when Hermione reached up to place her hands on his hips.

 

‘Oh, I’m deadly serious,’ Hermione assured him as she slid her hands around to his arse and experimentally squeezed his muscled buttocks. There was a choked sound from above, and she smiled as she gently pressed her face against the front of his trousers. ‘I’ll tell the Minister that you traded Dark objects if you don’t stay here and finish what you started.’

 

‘You are being … utterly unreasonable, Miss Granger.’

 

‘I’m actually being very reasonable,’ Hermione said matter-of-factly as she leaned back to look up at him. ‘I’ve given you a very clear choice of either facing the Minister and the Wizengamot over the possession and trading of illegal items, or staying here with me for the rest of the afternoon and seeing what happens from there. Nothing more, nothing less.’

 

Seeing him hesitate, she gave his backside another squeeze and was this time rewarded with a slight thrust of his hips.

 

‘This changes nothing,’ Lucius said, his voice sounding ever so slightly hoarse as he tilted his head back. ‘I shall leave for Cairo this evening and it may be a very long time before I return again.’

 

Hermione paused to consider his words, her fingers now resting on the buckle of his belt. ‘I suppose I can live with that. It’s not like I was hoping for a marriage proposal or anything.’

 

‘In that case …’ Lucius drawled before suddenly dropping down to haul her legs over his shoulders and brush against her. ‘I suppose I shall simply _have_ to stay for the rest of the day, seeing as I really have no wish to go before the Wizengamot again.’

 

Hermione whimpered despite herself and threw her head back. ‘Merlin, life’s just full of hard decisions.’

 

‘Indeed it is,’ Lucius murmured as he deftly undid the front of his trousers and positioned himself closer. ‘And now, Miss Granger, I believe I must teach you not to play such dangerous games with me. There is nothing to say that I won’t actually blackmail you if you cross me.’

 

She smiled up at him, feeling flushed and ready. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

 

Lucius eyed her with a faint smirk before he plunged into her with one powerful thrust, forcing out a cry from her parted lips.

 

It was heaven and it was only for an afternoon, but Egypt wasn’t so far away and Lucius Malfoy didn’t have such a clean record that Hermione would fail to find more things to blackmail him with. It would be the only sure-fire way to continue fulfilling her fantasies _and_ allow him to want her and have her without feeling any worse for it.

 

Lucius leaned over her to kiss her, and she sighed against his tongue.

 

It was twisted and it was totally senseless, but Hermione thought it was possibly the most genuine thing she had ever experienced.

 

Their story, she realised, was only just beginning. 

 

_~ The End ~_

 

 


End file.
